Their Blue Eyes
by Ambrosia Rush
Summary: He distrusted her, while she just wanted him safe. Callen doesn't know it, but he has a price on his head. The one person who might be able to keep him safe, is the person he distrusts most.
1. Prologue pt 1

**Tag to episodes: Imposters (2x23), Familia (2x24) , Lange, H (3x01), Cyber Threat (3x02), Backstopped (3x03)**

**I originally started this a couple weekends after Backstopped. Got to say, I originally hated Hunter, probably like the majority of watchers. I went back and re-watched it and was completely inspired that time around. **

**The first three chapters go through the five episodes, all the important Hunter or Callen moments. Some are in-between moments that I added. Sometimes the moments are written twice, from each person's perspective. **

**The theory may prove completely incorrect, but for the story's purposes... **

**Anyways, I didn't post it because I simply didn't have time to write it with my other series going on, maybe if I post it I'll nag me to complete it... anyways, let me know what you think :)**

::

"Hetty!" It was strange. Hearing his voice after all those years. It had changed, obviously- but... it was still familiar to her ears. "I've been calling you!"

"I'm sorry, I..." Was the tech's response.

"Why didn't you answer my calls?" She heard him ask the tech as she made her way down the stairs. "Where is she?"

"Miss Lange," she said looking down at the stairs steeling her resolve. She wasn't the one being called, but it didn't bother her. _He didn't even know who she was_. "She's gone." She informed him taking the last step from the stairs and getting a good look at G Callen. "She tended her resignation." The agents watched her warily and but she didn't mind, she hadn't expected a warm welcome. She held out the file to Callen. "Effective immediately."

Blue eyes and such pain reflected in them. She wished to do something more, but she needed to keep _the secret_. It was of the utmost importance. Hurting him now meant protecting him from a much bigger threat later.

"Who are you?" Sam Hanna wanted to know looking offended simply by her presence.

"Lauren Hunter," she replied. "Her replacement." She took a deep breath knowing full well this wasn't going to be all rainbows and butterflies.

A scoff sound from Kensi and an incredulous look from Deeks. "Her replacement?" He asked with disbelief.

Kensi looked shocked. "Is this a joke?"

It was offensive, that the agent would ask such a question. None of them knew her, none of them knew the role that she was truly playing. They would be thanking her, welcoming her if they did. She gave an angry smile before letting it fall and but the offense stayed on her face. "I'm not much of a joker, Agent Blye."

Callen looked up from the file he'd been reading and looked to the red haired tech. "Nell, get me Director Vance on the phone."

The two of them were already moving towards the ops centre when she spoke. "That won't be necessary." She waited till she heard his footsteps pause. "Director Vance is coming online in ops to brief you all momentarily." She turned heel and looked at him. _My, my how you have grown_, her heart swelled with pride, he'd really made something of himself. "Agent Callen, I'd like to have a word with you in my office when you're finished." She walked away toward the office that was, for now, hers.

::

Callen had a great distrust for this Lauren Hunter woman. She was in Hetty's office, taking over Hetty's space, doing Hetty's job. It didn't just annoy him, it pissed him off.

He'd called Hetty. _Six times_. Not once had she picked up the phone. Every other call he left a message, and thinking back each time they sounded angrier. The rest of the team was worried too. Sam had called. Kensi wanted to know if they had heard anything, but there was nothing to report to her.

The tech's informed the team of their 'speculations' on Agent Hunter and it didn't fill Callen with trust. Classified assignments. Off the grid for years. Knowing that Director would be the only one with the authority to put a Operations Manager- even a temporary one- in place. And Callen wanted to make damn sure it was temporary. He left the room, there was little point in beating around the bush. You want answers? Ask the questions. He stalked off toward _Hetty's office_, because there was no way he was even going to think about it being Hunter's.

He could feel the watchful eyes of his agents on his back and he waited seemingly patient for her to get off the phone.

"I have the authority," she was saying and it sounded to him like a dig, her cold eyes locked on to him. He ground his teeth trying to keep calm, but he didn't like someone coming in here, taking over Hetty's place. More he wanted answers as to why she had left so suddenly- maybe because he'd stopped her from placing her resignation after Dom died.

She finished up with her call and hung up. She sighed. "You walked off last night when I wanted to talk with you."

He moved and invaded her space hoping to throw her off balance. "So who are you?"

"I'm Miss Lange's replacement. She..."

"She did not retire," he cut her off, his anger burning. "Not voluntarily."

"You were very close with her. I can understand your... confusion."

He could play the game. He looked to her desk and saw her keys the Warszawa key chain hanging from them. "Ah, Warsaw." He said studying her face. "You've been to Poland recently?" He asked in Polish.

"Warsaw, eight months," she responded her in perfect Polish. "And before that...Murmansk."

"Murmansk?" He switched over to Russian. "Russia." He made a sound of interest, she was at least good at the languages she spoke and he could find admiration in learning such things. It didn't lessen how royally pissed he was but at least it was nice practice. "I worked there. It's very, very cold."

"Your Russian accent is very good," she commented. She then switched to German. "And your German?"

He suppressed a smile, but spoke in German. "Germans usually mistake me for Austrian." He gave a lazy shrug. "And in Rome... they think I'm from the north."

She smiled and even gave a quiet laugh. "Milan, of course," and in French. "And what about in Paris?"

"In Paris no matter how good your accent is they ignore you."

She smiled and looked away for a moment before her face hardened once more. "Is it true?" She asked. "That you don't know what the 'G' stands for?"

He had the intent of knocking her off balance, to get answers and instead it was he who found he was knocked off balance. Most people had the courtesy not to ask- at least not to his face. He was shocked and momentarily vulnerable, he knew it because somehow this woman who should know nothing about him... knew, and more she asked. "Okay, you got me."

She closed her eyes and looked down. When she returned her gaze she spoke, "Hetty's gone Agent Callen. She told me herself, she's not coming back."

He found his footing, he wasn't going to let this woman dig again. "Well, she hasn't told me," he replied. "And since she's not answering her phone."

"Then she must not want to talk with you."

"You don't know Hetty," he responded narrowing his eyes.

"On the contrary." They momentarily locked in a battle of wills with just their eyes.

He half turned from her before asking. "Serbian?"

"Not Serbian," she replied. With that he stalked off. "Agent Callen?" She called out, but he didn't stop, he just kept moving, completely infuriated and trying to keep the emotions, the suspicions on lock down. He heard her call him again. "Agent Callen!" He ignored her completely and walked blindly past his team.

::

She watched as he walked over from the bullpen as she held the phone to her ear. "I have the authority," she informed the man on the phone while keeping her, eyes on Callen. She finished up with her call and hung up. She sighed, despite knowing she wouldn't be welcomed with open arms, she hadn't quite expected the strength of the hostility and automatic distrust. "You walked off last night when I wanted to talk with you."

He moved and stood closer to her. "So who are you?"

"I'm Miss Lange's replacement. She..."

"She did not retire," he cut her off. She flicked her eyes over to the team that was focussed on her. She knew their respect for her, or lack thereof would come from how Callen seen her. Oh the irony only she could understand. "Not voluntarily."

She broke eye contact with him, it was difficult. The hope that maybe he'd just look and _know_ versus the desperate plea that he would stay oblivious- he'd be safer that way. "You were very close with her. I can understand your... confusion."

He looked to her desk and saw her keys the Warszawa key chain hanging from them. "Ah, Warsaw," he noted. "You've been to Poland recently?" He asked in Polish.

"Warsaw, eight months," she responded her in perfect Polish. The knowledge of languages gave her a certain sense of power because with understanding a language came understanding the information acquired and in her line of work the more languages known the more effective she became. "And before that...Murmansk."

"Murmansk?" He switched over to Russian, "Russia. I worked there. It's very, very cold."

"Your Russian accent is very good," she commented. His mastery of languages was admirable. She then switched to German. "And your German?"

He suppressed a smile, but spoke in German. "Germans usually mistake me for Austrian." He gave a lazy shrug. "And in Rome... they think I'm from the north."

She smiled and even gave a quiet laugh. He did sound Austrian, but still his command of the language was proper. It was strange, the joy she found in the conversation of languages. "Milan, of course," and in French. "And what about in Paris?"

"In Paris no matter how good your accent is they ignore you."

She smiled and looked away for a moment. She steeled herself for the next question. It broke her heart a little, but she needed to know, she needed to see his face when she asked, hear his answer_ and know_. She found her resolve. "Is it true?" She asked. "That you don't know what the 'G' stands for?"

He paused, looked oddly vulnerable and her eyes got glassy. He really didn't know. She blinked and held in the emotions. "Okay, you got me," he said.

She closed her eyes and looked down. Her voice was a little broken when she spoke, "Hetty's gone Agent Callen. She told me herself, she's not coming back." She prayed he didn't notice her breaking voice, or at least if he did that he thought it meant something else. She hoped his dislike for her would hide his curiosity.

"Well, she hasn't told me," he replied. "And since she's not answering her phone."

"Then she must not want to talk with you." It was hard to say such things, but it had to be done. If it made her the bad guy... so be it.

"You don't know Hetty," he responded narrowing his eyes.

"On the contrary."

He half turned from her before asking, "Serbian?"

"Not Serbian," she replied and watched as he stalked off. "Agent Callen?" She called out, but he didn't stop, she got agitated- if he didn't listen to her there wasn't a hope in hell that his team would. She walked around her desk and stopped at the step. "Agent Callen," she called again but he was ignoring her. She found herself trying to keep control of her emotions. "A word with you Agent Hanna?" He looked at her a moment before walking away too. She scoffed, _well this hasn't gone as hoped, _she thought bitterly. "Crap."

::

"Eric, what is the name to that file?" She asked.

"Operation Comescu," Eric replied.

She sent a worried look at the director and then reigned in her emotions. _Shit_, she thought.

"What is Comescu?" Callen asked.

Director Vance ignored him, and she followed the Director out.

::

The emotions of the day were taking their toll. She'd seen him, finally after all these years _alive_ he was living and breathing and working, it brought her unparalleled happiness. Then again, he hated her, shown her blatant disrespect. She was lying to him and he knew it. The thing was he didn't know what she was lying about. It made all the difference. _She was protecting him_, how could she not?

The firing range was peaceful, no one was inside, and hell everyone was avoiding her anyways. She donned the bright yellow ear protectors, put on the safety goggles and grabbed her gun. Willing herself not to cry- it was stupid, so stupid to cry over it all. This was her choice and she had no doubts in her mind that it was the right one... but... she hadn't expected his hostility, the strength of it. She fought for control over her emotions and squeezed off a few rounds, her tears messing her accuracy and she was surprised by the terrible shots. She sensed she was being watched and allowed the next few bullets to stray as sadness washed over her she thought she could put all her emotions into a box... _doubting yourself will destroy the mission_, she thought and she couldn't have that. Forcing the sadness away she put the gun down daintily and studied the target with fake enthusiasm.

"Don't get a lot of field work?" Callen asked entering the firing range.

"I'm not really known for my marksmanship." That much was true, then again, she wasn't known as a person much less for any skill. That didn't mean that she wasn't a good shot, she was. _A damn good shot_.

"Well you're not really known for much at all." Callen dug. "In fact no one who's worked here has ever heard of you."

"Oh," she said setting up a new target. "Well... that's alright. Cause I've never really heard about any of them... except you."

"And Hetty."

"Yeah," she replied wistfully. She couldn't help the smile that threatened to break free. He looked just like the faded photograph... she hid the smile with an accusation. "You don't like me."

"I don't know you," he responded.

She smiled. _Good answer_, she thought. "What ever happened to first impressions?"

"Usually unreliable," he responded honestly. "Except maybe in your case." _Ouch_, she averted her gaze. "Who's Comescu?"

She turned around. "That is a question for the director."

"Yeah, well, I'm asking you."

She reloaded the gun in hand and set it back down whirling back to face him, emotions threatening her. She knew that this would be difficult, but she hadn't prepared herself for just how hard it would be to look at him, to know that he didn't trust her. "Hetty trusts me, she would not have recommended me to take over if she didn't." She paused a moment studying him. "Doesn't that count for something?"

He looked to be considering and then responded. "It should count enough for you to tell me the truth. Who is Comescu?"

_Well played_, she thought- he was good but that didn't mean she was going to show him her hand. "I'm sorry Callen." He would have no idea just how sorry she was, she turned back around. "I can't answer that." She put the protecting equipment back on, and turned back to see he had left the room.

The anger at the situation took over and she held her gun steady firing her way through the round each bullet ripping through the red circle.

::

_This is going to go badly_, she thought seeing Callen and his team come in.

"Comescu's people have Hetty!"

"Yeah, I heard," Vance replied. "We'll find her, I'm putting a team on it."

"You have a team," Callen argued.

"Not in Prague I don't," Vance said keeping his cool.

She stood back, arms folded over her chest her mind working. _Hetty_, she thought worriedly. And looking over his body language she knew that he wasn't going to let it go with out a fight. She kept her face schooled, impassive. She'd been getting better at it through out the day- no longer did looking at him bring tears, no longer would the barbs hurt. She had a job to do and she wasn't about to screw it up. Not now. Not when she was so close.

"How long have you known she's been in Prague?" Callen asked, his tone leaning toward argumentative.

"Miss Jones just told me," the Director replied.

Callen looked to Nell for conformation and she gave a small nod. "I need a ticket on the next available flight."

"Not necessary, I'll send a team from the field office in Paris."

"Fine, that's great. They can pick me up when I land in Prague."

"You're not going to Prague."

"I speak Czech, I speak Romanian. I have contacts in Prague that can help us!" There was a desperation in his voice that she understood, she felt sympathy for. He had lost so many before, lacked a family of blood relatives but these people- his agents were his family, and Hetty was part of that- she understood.

"You are no longer on this case Agent Callen."

His emotions were showing and she had to steel herself against them. She had heard much about him, how he was a legend even in their work, that he was stoic always had a plan... and here he was with tears shining in his eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut for a second trying to keep her own pain at seeing it at bay. "Then give me a reason! Tell me why! What is Operation Comescu about?"

"It's about you Agent Callen," the Director informed. Callen looked shell shocked. "Operation Comescu is all about you." He sighed. "Operation Comescu is an ongoing investigation into a Romanian crime family. You dream up the worst pain and suffering a man can inflict on another man the Comescu family has done worse. They've done much worse."

She tried to keep it together, hoped no one noticed with her arms crossed her finger nails were biting into her skin. Vance reminded Callen of a victim from an earlier case, told him that, that man had been trying to warn him and that the 'what' of the warning was what Hetty was trying to find out.

"And she found out..."

"The Comescu family wants you dead Agent Callen."

"Why?" Sam asked.

"Some sort of long standing family feud as far as we can tell," the Director responded. She had to keep her face impassive. The director didn't know, not who she truly was, not her true intentions, not her own personal end game.

"I don't have... any family," Callen replied. Her heart tightened painfully. It hurt for him to say that, right there in front of her. "They think I do," Callen filled in.

Vance nodded. "They've probably mistaken you for somebody else."

She could see the hurt in his eyes. "Probably." He had a look of concentration and she could tell he was forming a plan. "Hetty was trying to protect me."

"And that is why you can't go to Prague," Vance said lightly.

"That is why..." his voice broke a little. "I have to go to Prague." To hear him sound so... broken it spoke of the years, those years she knew full well had not been kind.

"Hetty has resigned her position, she is operating outside of the authority of this agency. We will send a team from Paris. We'll find her. Try to bring her back. We'll try to get her the hell out of there. And you will not, **you will not **be a part of that team."

He took a moment looking hurt, and betrayed, yet at the same time she found he had resolve as he pulled his badge out of his suit jacket and looked at it for a second before throwing it down on the desk alongside his gun before walking away.

_Well I didn't see that coming_, it was a decision made by loyalty with love. She hadn't expected it, and yet she was proud to see it. And then Agent Hanna put down his badge and gun- it spoke volumes to her, the man's trust in Callen. His resignation was also followed by Agent Blye's. That the team would give away a job that meant so much... it spoke of the loyalties that he'd built of the faith they had in their leader, and in his mission to protect Hetty.

And even the Detective, not really an NCIS agent spoke."I would if I could."

"Yes you would Detective," Vance responded and there was a tone of admiration in his voice as he had to watch them walk away.

She needed to get her plan in motion, this hadn't been part of it... "Prague is a big city. They won't even know where to start looking."

Nell cleared her throat nervously. "I... uh automatically uploaded all of the Prague addresses and information into the system, it's already on their cell phones. I'm sorry."

She put her hand to her temples, _what a mess, _she thought.

"Find her Agent Hunter," the director turned to her. "Before they all get killed."

She nodded and stalked off, _this can still work_, she thought to herself. It had to because if it didn't... she couldn't think about it. She had to make sure _he_ came back safe.


	2. Prologue pt 2

**It has been pointed out to me that Hunter's eyes are actually green. For the sake of the story, they are blue. (lol) Anyways, enjoy :)**

::

She'd been picked up at the airport, had worked her mind back to being Ilena Vadim the entire drive to the beach house. The car stopped and she let out a slow, controlled breath. This was it. She stepped out and Dracul stepped forward kissing both cheeks in greeting, "Ilena!"

"Dracul," she responded with a fond smile. _If only he knew that while I smile I'm thinking of how many items in my purse I could kill him with_, she thought bitterly.

He took a gentle hold to her arm, a chivalrous act rather than possessive. The old ways. She allowed herself to be lead into the house, he asked about her flight and she told him it had been nice, that she was happy to be back. She could do the dance, play the game, but at the end of the day she didn't just want to win, _she had to. _

::

Their voices blur into background noise.

Lauren Hunter is in Romania.

She is friendly with the Comescu's.

Sam speculates that she is an undercover.

Callen isn't so sure- maybe she is- maybe she isn't. He doesn't want to risk Hetty's life or that of his team on a gamble.

"We have a plan?" Kensi sounds incredulous as she asks such a thing.

The flashback of his mother's smiling face, the gun, the sound of it firing replays violently in the back of Callen's mind. "Yeah. Kill 'em all." They took from him his mother, his childhood, his name, the love of a family, the support and security, they took from him the person he could have been. And now- as if to add insult to injury they took the woman who had taken up a 'mother' figure in his mind.

_Someone had to pay for that. _

::

She doesn't like it, how quite the house had been. She knew something was going on, and she knew behind which door to find Hetty. She couldn't go in, not now. She had to focus, she had her goal set. She walked a short distance from the house, the cool wind keeping her alert as she passed tourists and locals. She took a quick look around, spotting no one she plucked her phone out of her purse as she stood out by the sea cool air blowing at her back. She dialled and held the phone to her ear.

He answered. "Yes," in Romanian.

"Dracul, where are you?"

"He's with me." It isn't Dracul on the other end of the phone and she is surprised to find she knows the voice.

"Callen?" _That was fast,_ she thought. Should have a longer head start, after all she had already known exactly where to go. Then again, she shouldn't have underestimated him. "You're here already," surprise entered her voice, but it hid the pride that might have shown up in the words.

"Dracul couldn't make it to the phone."

She feels a surge of panic. "He's dead?" Frankly she didn't care about that man one way or another, but if Dracul were dead... it would cause problems, and they couldn't afford problems. This mission was going to be deadly enough as it was.

"Bleeding," Callen responded, his voice tight with anger.

Her mind was working in a panicked frenzy. If they had Dracul, someone would be missing him, the place would go on high alert- this narrowed their window considerably. It might make the family start looking internally, they might start looking at her, she couldn't afford such suspicions. "Where are you?" She asked.

"Close enough to see you arrive at the beach house," he responded. "Hetty?"

"I haven't seen her yet," she responded, it was true she hadn't _seen_ her- but she did know the older woman's location. "But they are keeping her alive to flesh you out," she warned.

"Well it's working," he responded.

She clenched her teeth, her plans had gone to hell in a handbasket. Everything had to be re-worked. She breathed in and breathed back out controlled. She couldn't permit her emotions to get the best of her, not now, not with so much at stake. She knew she wouldn't be able to order him, give him her version of the plan- he didn't respect her enough to take the orders, and more she didn't think he trusted her.

But she respected him.

She trusted him with her life.

"How do you want to do this?" She asked praying all the hype about G Callen was right, that he was _the best_ otherwise they were all destined to die.

"I am open to suggestions," he answered and it surprised her.

She thought about it for a second and wondered if she was being played. "Tell me where you are?"

He hesitated, and she knew he was trying to decide if she was trustworthy. Did he trust the fact that Hetty had left her in charge? That the Director of NCIS had sent her himself, did it count for something? What did his gut say- and that was the part she knew he was having trouble with. _He knew_ that she was lying, but he wasn't sure about what, and she knew that was here his biggest problems with her lay.

"An old auto workshop," he finally responded. "Two blocks off Main Street, one block south. There is a broken gas pump out front."

She knew the spot. "Give me ten minutes."

"Ten minutes," Callen responded.

::

She was there in nine.

"Do you have a plan?" She asked cooly as they stood out front, if all went to hell she couldn't have her cover blown by Dracul- then again, she didn't know how much the man had heard from their phone conversations, or how much any of the agents might have said about her.

He studied her a long moment. "Save Hetty," he replied quite simply.

He didn't have to say how, she knew by the hardened look in his eyes.

She gave a sharp nod, "I can help even the odds. I will tell Alexa that they have Dracul, she will undoubtedly send people, as many as can be mustered." The plan was flimsy at best and it gave her a shiver down her spine. "It will leave the house with minimal guards."

"You should go with the people to save Dracul," he responded after a moment. She was surprised, and puzzled, did this mean he wished her to be protected and out of the firefight (especially since he hadn't seen how well she could shoot) or was it because he didn't trust her to be on their side.

"Hmm," she responded without committing. "Do you need to make any more preparations?"

"No."

"I shall tell Alexa then."

::

The house was always busy. Always filled with _family_. It always made her feel robbed.

She knocked on the door, her heart was hammering away in her chest. Everything was riding on the success of a suicide mission. She kept her face impassive but internally her mind was whirling with the possible ends.

Alexa opened the door and Hunter caught sight of Hetty but kept her face impassive. "They have Dracul," she told Alexa in Romanian.

"Where?" Alexa asked.

She shot a look over at Hetty once more searching for injuries and hoping that the older woman didn't tell Alexa anything... her cover needed to stay in tact... but how much did Hetty trust her, really? Because the woman was looking rather shocked. "An abandoned garage," Hunter said to Alexa. "Two blocks from here."

"I know this place," Alexa responded. "Send Vasile and the others."

She nodded and could see the confusion in Hetty's eyes, it appeared even the legendary Henrietta Lange was unsure as to where her loyalties lay.

They were where they always had been.

_With family_.

::

"I counted twelve," Callen said watching the cars go by filled with Comescu's going to get Dracul back. "I think that evens out the odds."

"Only until they have discovered we've gone," Sam responded. "You see Hunter?"

"Nope," Callen responded a little miffed. Then again she hadn't agreed with that part of the plan, not really. He put the car into gear and hoped he wasn't leading his team to their deaths.

::

Clearing the house had been a blur, between the anger, the desperation he hardly even remembered it as he reached the door and quickly opened it. "Hetty," her name came like a sigh of relief. She was sitting there, _alive_. He hadn't lost someone else.

Alexa stood and he kept his gun trained on the woman. "I know who you are," she said in accented English. "I know your family." The words grated on him, she knew the things that he did not-_ about his own family_. "I know everything about you." That was the worst. That she knew. **She knew **and _**he didn't**_.

The door opened and since Alexa didn't appear armed his training had him pivot to where the door had opened and his gun aimed. _Hunter_. She raised her gun. _Son of a_- it was as far as his thoughts went before her gun went off- two bullets.

He flinched.

It took a second for his mind to work. Neither bullet had hit him. He looked back as he heard Alexa, gun in her hand, fall to the ground. He stared in shock for a second before he turned back to Hunter who had lowered her weapon and was looking a little miffed.

"And when did you trust me?"

"Not until you pulled the trigger."

::

The gunfire through the house announced them, it was when it got quiet that she worried and made her way to the back kitchen where she had seen Alexa and Hetty before. Adrenaline was surging through her system and pulled out her gun before opening the door.

He was there and had turned, his gun pointed at her.

_Horrified_- it was the only time in her life she would say she was truly horrified- it was when Alexa raised her gun to his back. Her gut clenched, bile stinging the back of her throat every fibre of her highly trained being aware, she raised her gun and took the two dangerous shots. If he had moved...

He was surprised, she could read that on his face. It annoyed her. He didn't trust her. He looked to the fallen body and back at her. "And when did you trust me?" She asked with attitude.

"Not until you pulled the trigger." _Well, for a professional liar- he's pretty honest_.

::

She grabbed the key from Alexa's neck, not bothered in the least that she had killed the woman. She turned heel and unlocked the door her body tingling in anticipation.

"You came back, as Ilena," Callen was questioning, putting the pieces together.

"They wanted to believe that their niece would come back to them someday," she responded pulling the door open.

"But why you?" He asked.

_Why me? _She thought bitterly. _If only I could tell you_,_ maybe one day I'll be able to, one day when you're safe. _

"For what?" He pried.

"This," she lied holding up a computer. Well... it wasn't exactly a lie. It was what she needed the key for, but it wasn't why she had subjected herself to becoming Ilena Valim.

He looked at the computer in wonder, and she knew that it would become a problem. Alexa knew things about him. Things he would suspect to be on the computer. And she would have to lie. He couldn't know- not yet.

"We good?" Sam asked.

"We're good," Callen replied.

"Hetty, time to hustle. Kensi and Deeks are at the car," Sam said walking into the room.

A groan.

"Hetty?" Sam said.

Hetty's hand slipped, blood staining her shirt.

And that was when she heard the most heart wrenching sound. His voice, so distraught, thin with pain. "Hetty."

::

**Thanks for reading :)**


	3. Prologue pt 3

She had been going to brief them, but they seemed to be content on filling in the blanks themselves much to her annoyance. They just couldn't keep quiet and let her do her job? No. Apparently not.

"What does this have to do with us?" Callen asked.

"Perhaps if you would allow me to brief you," she had responded trying not to let her agitation show, but she wasn't sure if she'd done a good job at masking it.

He made a sarcastic motion of hands as if to say, 'by all means, go ahead.'

She went forward, filling them in. The case mattered little to her- it wasn't a part of her game- and it was getting difficult playing three games of chess at the same time. The goal remained the same though. Protect the king.

He talked back to her- and this time she had expected it- throwing the talk right back.

It had been getting easier, perhaps because she expected the hostility and it no longer caught her off guard. It didn't mean it had stopped hurting, but she'd put on her kevlar and dealt with it. "I'll expect a situation report at eleven hundred hours." She felt him. His eyes on her as the others had left the room. "Something else you need, Agent Callen?" She asked with little interest.

"Yeah," he replied and she could feel the angry undercurrent. "The data analysis on the laptop from the Comescu compound."

"Last I heard it was being analysed and authenticated," she responded shortly keeping a leash on her emotions.

"It's been three months," he argued. "Kinda like to know why the Comescu's were trying to kill me."

She turned to him, arms crossing over her chest in a defensive stance. "I can't answer that."

"You can't, or you won't. 'Cause if there is information on that laptop that pertains to my past, I have a right to know."

He was staring her down looking for weakness, looking for the truth in her eyes. She long ago learnt to play the game and even if it was harder to do against him she shut down any tells from her face.

"Not my call," she responded simply. "I will file a request on your behalf." Since she had already deleted any information linked to him. "Of course, ultimately it's Director Vance's decision."

"Of course."

She went back to the computer. "Anything else Agent Callen?"

He left with out another word.

::

"She recovered some information that I need."

"Information about your past?" Sam asked as he drove carefully through traffic.

"Possibly," Callen responded.

"And you think she's purposely holding out on you?"

"Yeah." He responded honestly. She was lying, he knew it. She was defensive and throwing responsibility to Director Vance. She knew something... and damn it, he'd lived too long with a letter for a name, too long not knowing his family, he deserved answers. "And I think she might not be the only one." It was bad enough that he thought- knew- that Hunter, a woman he didn't know knew about his past and was holding out. It was even worse that Hetty a woman he had known for years might be holding something back from him. It was the worst kind of betrayal, she knew how he yearned for a family, for any real link to his past, and he had a bad feeling that she was holding out on him. It was putting him on edge.

Sam's phone went off, he checked the ID. "Hetty."

"Hm," Callen took the phone. "Uncanny timing don't you think?"

::

_What the fuck? _It was like his brain had short circuited. Hunter had brought in...an NSA agent? _What the fuck- _even as a thought it bared repeating. "Can I speak with you, alone?" It just about killed him to keep a civil tone.

"Sure," she almost looked happy at the prospect as if she didn't see what to him was so clearly wrong with the picture. "My office, ten minutes."

"I prefer to do it now," he said quickly before she could walk away. "And somewhere a little more private than... _Hetty_'s office." He couldn't resist the jab.

::

She was pissed. He was demanding, ordering her to meet with him on his own terms. "Something bothering you Agent Callen?" She turned to face him, he needed to learn that she wasn't going to allow him to walk all over her.

"I've got a lot of things bothering me," Callen responded the leash on his anger sapping away.

"Are they work related?" She asked with a barbed tongue. "Or do you need to speak to a professional?"

"Bringing anyone outside of NCIS here is a gross breach of protocol," he looked calm, sounded calm but she knew better.

"Now, Miss Michaels was on this case before we were. She has top secret clearance from the NSA."

"I don't care if she's the man from uncle. We don't bring outsiders here." He was talking down to her, as if explaining something to a dunce. "That is what the boatshed is for."

Two could play at that game. "Deeks is here. He's just a cop."

"Vetted by Hetty," he quickly argued back

"And I vetted Miss Michaels." She glared him down. "You may resent my authority."

"I resent being played," he cut her off.

"You familiar with the phrase don't hate the player, hate the game."

"I don't consider this a game."

The tension reaching critical when Nell spoke up. "Don't mind me, just a worker bee."

She didn't listen to the woman, but she heard the footsteps of him storming off. Nell lit up the incinerator and Lauren Hunter watched it all burn- _all of it. _

::

Sometimes you have to be the one to try, despite doing nothing wrong, okay so she was lying to him, but it was to protect him- just like she had always done... but she needed to be the one to try to make a bond, at least try for some respect, she didn't even care much at this point if he liked her so much as if he respected her- she could work on toleration and then like later.

"Well after a less than auspicious start..." she put a friendly smile upon her face. "You guys did a nice job on containing this. The Chinese Government is already distancing itself..." she filled them in with a smile on her face so unfamiliar it hurt. "They're blaming it all on a Tibetan separatist group."

"Those pesky monks," Sam tried for humour and Callen shot him a glare as if to ask 'who's side are you on?'

No one said anything more and an awkward tension came upon the room. She let out a breath- at least he hadn't been right out hostile. "So yeah... like I said, nice job."

::

They watch a Staff Sergeant blow up on screen. It's strange, it's like watching a movie, and in a movie you don't care when some side character gets blown to hell. But this... this is real life and that was a real human being, a Marine. It's despicable, but it's not a case for their office and Callen voices as much, no espionage, not terroristic angle.

Hunter continues with her briefing and Callen wonders what the heck she is up to. It has to be something, she's always plotting something.

Deeks goes on about how hard it is to get into the club of Calvin Winslow but Callen's hardly listening to him, his mind is firmly on Hunter. The woman is up to something and it's driving him nuts. He wants Hetty back. Hetty might keep secrets, but at least he trusts her.

He forces his distrust of the woman down, after all, a job is a job and the Staff Sergeant deserves his best work. They all do. He orders Kensi and Deeks off, and he and Callen will go and talk to the other... till Hunter speaks up again.

"I've made some operational changes," she said. "Callen, you'll be working with Kensi. Sam with Deeks." She had a slight upward tilt to her lips like she was suppressing a smile. "Partner up." Her tone, the way she moved, her words next showed her anger and frustration. "I'm sure you'll all make this work." She pushes by and exits.

Callen barely manages to keep from chasing after her and putting her in her place. Fact of the matter is however temporary, she was the Operational Manager and he could be suspended for insubordination. He takes a second to put a lock down on the emotions that might get him in trouble before he follows her at a walk rather than a jog in his eagerness. "Why are you doing this?" He asked unable to mask the agitation in his voice... well he masked the outright anger, so it was better than nothing.

::

She turned on her heel and there was no mask hiding the anger on her face. She had known a conformation was coming and had been prepared. "Your hostility toward me is effecting the team's work!"

"No it's not!" He argued back. Part of her wanted to pitch in a 'is too' but that was far too childish. "The team is doing just fine!" She watched as the last bit of his control turned to sarcasm in his movements as he spoke. "And whatever hostility I have is not about them, it's about you!"

It stung. She didn't want to admit it, and she was pissed and angry and on top of it all was that overwhelming hurt, but she kept on her best poker face.

"I can't trust anybody who withholds information about my past, my life."

"And yet, you trust Hetty," she throws back in his face. She's well aware of the slight shock, the hurt in his face. "If I told you what was on Alexa Comescu's laptop in Romania, would that gain your trust?" The last word breaks just slightly and she prays that the emotions that comes with that single loaded word does not reach out and smack Callen in the face. He can't know. Not yet.

"It would be a good place to start." He's softened, just slightly in his face, but his body is still tense for a fight.

She sorted quickly what to tell, what not to and crossed her arms over her chest in an unconscious defensive movement. "The Comescu family's real business is money. Clean money. They provide hundreds of criminal enterprises all around the world with start up loans and exchange for those funds, the family gets part ownership."

She watched as some of the tension left and it was like talking to another human being, not a hostile. "I thought they were involved in human trafficking."

"Yeah, they were," she agreed. "Along with narcotics, terrorism and counterfeit goods. If you were a criminal looking for an investor, you call the Comescu's."

He looked at her curiously. "And if your business failed?"

"You die," she said after a long moment and tried to keep her face impassive. "The laptop is just the tip of the iceberg." She blinked, so many memories... "My investigations still got a long way to go." She breathed through and tried to keep the tears in. "It's-" as far as she gets before he cuts her off with an angered tone.

"Your investigation?" The fighting stance and tension is back in his body and she finds herself frustrated all over again.

"Authorised by Director Vance."

"And you report to?" He's interrogating her. She doesn't like it.

"Hetty." She responds cooly. Two can play at this game. The obvious distrust in his eyes hurts and she has to look away. She wishes she could explain... instead she does everything to keep him from the truth, because knowing him he'd run blindly into it. "There is nothing about you on the laptop Agent Callen." She says with a strong voice. "The answers that you are looking for... they..." She pauses, it's going to hurt him... but she has to. "They died with Alexa Comsecu in Romania."

He walks away with out a word.

::

And when he thought the day couldn't get worse...

He stepped out of the car, grateful to still be alive and kept up the deep breathing exercises. Kensi noticed. "Are you okay?"

"I've been better," he said wishing the little white dots from his vision.

"Is it Hunter?" Kensi tone incredibly worried.

"Motion sickness," he kept the bile down and took in a deep breath of air.

"I am a great driver!" Kensi sounded indignant.

"Not even close." He walked way with as much dignity as a man with motion sickness can muster.

"Okay, Deeks doesn't have to know you feel this way. Right? Hey Callen?"

::

Interrogating after being called out on car sickness wasn't a highlight. He was sick of the day. Sick of Hunter. He wanted everything to go back to normal. He didn't have a normal family, a normal house, a normal life, but he wanted his version back, he wanted the stability again rather than being pushed around by Hunter's whims.

Hunter was on screen in the boat house and wanted an assessment on the bomb fragments and Sam gave it. With the new information they went back to the interrogation.

::

The case needed to be air tight, and she told the agents as much when she walked into the bullpen. They debated on approach for a while. Everything had to go down perfectly. She couldn't afford a mistake this late in the game.

She turned her attention away from Callen. "Sam? Do you think we can use Redman to get inside of Winslow's organization?" Using Sam was a low blow and she knew it. She had to... if for no other reason that to keep Callen on shaky ground. She knew how the ex- SEAL had to respond, but it didn't mean he had to like it. And it obviously went against his partners ideals putting them on uneven ground.

Callen and Sam look at each other knowingly, and Sam had to side with her.

She smiled a little cocky just to rub it in. "Worth a shot then."

She turns to Callen and Kensi and hands them a file on Ashley Thomas playing it all off like it isn't part of her game plan. She needs them to believe. "I'm going to need real time updates."

::

The apartment for Ashley Thomas was empty.

"Looks like she moved out," Kensi said from the kitchen.

I've been had. "Or she never moved in." He felt like he was being played and it was seriously getting on his nerves.

::

Kensi and Nell talk about the photos... none of them are Ashley Thomas. Callen looks across to Hetty's office where Hunter sat doing paperwork.

"Yeah, and I'm beginning to think we're not going to find her," Nell said in a tiny voice looking at all the photographs.

"And I'm beginning to think I know why," Callen responded walking over to Hunter's office. "Ashley Thomas."

"You found her?"

They bicker back and forth like they had been since she arrived and it's riding on Callen's last nerve. They're federal agents, and yet he knows it hasn't stopped him from having some arguments in the past. "You sent us off chasing ghosts!"

"Ashley Thomas is not a ghost."

Callen's tone was annoyed. He couldn't help it. Lauren Hunter was the most infuriating woman he had ever met. "Why?" He asked. "What is this really about?"

"You need to keep looking until she turns up."

"And when she doesn't," because he knew she didn't exist.

"She will," Hunter assured with such complete faith in the fact he knew that she knew something more than she was saying.

::

"The call is relaying!" Eric said in a panic. "I can't stop it."

Her heart stopped. She swore it did. He was in the building! The building rigged to blow! She didn't think. "Callen! Get the hell out of there! Now!" She shouted into her comm-device.

She heard him through the comm shouting at his team, _'go!'_

The seconds heard running, wind rushing by the comm devices. The roar of the explosion.

Was her heart still beating?

More importantly, was his?

She forced herself to breathe and in a quiet voice. "Callen, status?"

"We're all good." He sounded annoyed, but he was alive so she didn't mind one bit.

She let out a breath as the snow on the screen took over the blocked out cam. She took out her earpiece and tossed it on the table. "Never a dull moment," she said to Nell with slight anger. Anger because of the fear. He could have been killed! Right before her eyes on a mission she'd sent him on. He could have died and it terrified her.

::

He had been going to see Hunter. His entire team could have died because of her calls but he stopped in his tracks when Nell called at him from the stairs, she'd found Ashley Thomas. Out of sheer disbelief he followed her.

"It's like she was just born," Nell said after explaining the parameters she'd set up to filter out other Ashley Thomas's. She shows him the blog spots, media reports.

"Pictures?"

"Coming through now," she replied clicking the mouse. The picture loaded. "Oh... my... God."

"Send it to my phone," Callen demanded. The picture on screen wasn't Ashley Thomas... or it was; played by Special Agent Lauren Hunter.

_Gone._ By the time he got down the stairs, Lauren Hunter was gone.

Hetty had returned.

"Where is Agent Hunter?" He asked. He was annoyed. She had been backstopping herself. Had them running in circles while she was backstopping herself.

Hetty informs him that Hunter is gone. He couldn't help but ask if her new mission was about the Comescu's.

"She never had a dog in that fight, not like you and I," Hetty replied.

Suspicions about Hunter went out the window. His questions for her and about her wiped clear because Hetty says she knows things about his mother. _It nearly crushes him_. "What was her name?"

"Clara," Hetty answers, saddened nostalgia entering her voice. "Her name was Clara."

::

**That's the end of the 'prologues' and now the real story shall begin :)**

**Thanks for reading!**


	4. Chapter One

**Eight Months Later**

Dead end. _Another_ _dead end. _Frustrated at the way her case was going, Lauren Hunter entered her apartment and immediately tensed. Something was off. She wasn't even sure what it was about the quaint little open space that had warning bells ringing in her ears. Training kicked in immediately and she reached around to pull her gun out of it's holster, clicking off the safety in the same seamless movement.

She searched her entire apartment, systematically clearing rooms. Not that there is much space to check, open area living room and kitchen, bedroom and a bathroom. No room in the apartment had much for furniture so hiding spaces for someone would be limited.

With the entire place cleared she clicked the safety back on and holstered her gun. She walked around the apartment wondering if she was losing her touch. Something was different from the way she had left it... _wasn't it? _Letting out a sigh, she pulled her elastic from her hair and the straight locks fell to frame her face.

She nearly missed it a second time as she walked past, stopped and walked back three steps. There was a business card sitting on the ledge. White, thick stock, and she knew it wasn't something she'd have left around... it's wasn't hers in the first place. She picked it up and her thumb grazing over the gold embossed lettering, she bit her lip. The name Jakob Harris was one she knew, and the card left her with an uneasy feeling. How had he gotten in her apartment? How had he found her while she'd been living under an alias. Most importantly, what the hell did he want?

::

Flat on his back, a gun to his face and he wondered if this time he wouldn't be so lucky. There was a crack and the man fell over. Deeks stood, a little worse for wear with a now bloodied crowbar in hand. "Batter up," he said dryly.

"You must have gotten punched a little harder than I thought," Callen said sitting up trying to ignore the pain in his chest, and ignore just how close to death he had just been. "Your humour sucks."

Deeks flipped him the bird and sat down with a grunt of pain. "You should be grateful I came to save your ass," he said. "Not insulting me."

"You should have saved my ass earlier," Callen complained. "I think I broke something."

"Big babies," Sam said rounding the corner finding the two teammates who had been undercover. Sam shook his head dressed in dark clothing, his NCIS vest over his chest, gun in hand.

Kensi dressed in a similar fashion came in after and took a good look at the two men on the ground before instinctively going to her partner first. "You good?"

"Do I look good? Don't answer that," Deeks said quickly putting up a hand. "I think you should kiss it better," he said pointing to the large bruise on the right side of his face.

"Yeah, not going to happen," Kensi replied with a roll of her eyes.

"You really think you broke something, G?" Sam asked.

Callen looked up at his partner, the worry practically screaming in his dark brown eyes. "Na," Callen said slowly moving to get up. "Hurts like crazy though."

Kensi shot a knowing, and worried look to Sam. Callen rarely admitted to pain, and when he did he may sound like he was joking, but they knew it was serious. "We'll get you looked at," Sam said.

Callen made a dismissive sound and waved his hand. "I'm fine."

"I'll got to the doctor," Deeks said, as Kensi hauled him up. "I'm sure for this they'll send me a nurse. I haven't had a sexy nurse fawn over me in a while."

"Do you think Hetty would get me in trouble for hitting him while he's injured?" Kensi asked Sam part of her actually considering it anyways.

"Yeah," Sam said.

"Most definitely," Callen agreed.

"Hetty loves me," Deeks said.

"Just how hard were you hit?" Kensi questioned with an eyebrow raised as they all walked out of the dingy warehouse and into the Californian sun.

::

"Jakob," Hunter said cooly, her phone in hand, jaw set and angry. "You broke into my apartment."

"I apologies," Jakob responded, his voice spoke of a pack a day smoking habit. "I needed to get in touch, you keep odd hours."

"So you broke in?" Hunter's voice raised indignantly. "You couldn't just slip your card under the door or into my mail slot?"

Jakob chuckled and then coughed harshly, Hunter knew it was because of the decades of cigarettes, cigars and pipes. "Where in that, would be the fun?"

Since no one was around, she rolled her eyes and tried to keep her voice sharp and controlled. "I thought we had a deal."

"My dear, we do," Jakob reassured. "But..." another hard cough. "I thought we could make a... new stipulation."

"A stipulation?" Hunter responded naturally. She hated Jakob's games. She had gotten him out of her life with the deal they had struck, and now he was breaking into a home where she was living under the safety of an alias.

"Yes, yes," Jakob said. "I need something from you, a favour, and in return I can give you valuable information."

Hunter looked out the window in her kitchen... prime view of the brick wall on the other side of the alley. She didn't want to play Jakob's games. They were dangerous, and the odds seemed to always be stacked in his favour. The fact that she'd struck her original deal with Jakob, the fact that he had kept his promise still shocked her... she didn't want to risk changing it... she also didn't want to risk refusing. Either way there were consequences.

'_When given a decision, my girl, choose the consequences that are bearable.'_

What was this valuable information... and what was the favour desired for trade? Was it even worth it? Would the risk be worth the reward? Could she risk not knowing what Jakob found out... he must thing that the information would be worth a lot to her if he figured he could get something out of it, and that it was worth the risk of breaking into her apartment just to leave his business card.

"What kind of information?" she questioned.

"If I told you, my dear," he coughed harshly. "Then..." he took a wheezing breath. "It wouldn't be worth the favour."

"If I don't know what kind of information I'm getting, I'm not doing anything. You could tell me something I already know, or something I don't care to."

"You'll want to know this." Jakob's voice was insistent. "You _need_ to know this."

"What does the information pertain to, give me a straight answer or I'll hang up the phone." Her grip on the phone tightened and her palm seemed sweaty.

"Your brother," Jakob said with a wheeze. "The information pertains to your little brother."

Hunter closed her eyes tightly keeping her breathing even, not letting Jakob hear how rattled she was. "What about my brother?"

"A trade," Jakob said. "You do what I need done... I'll tell you about the threat to your brother's life."

"How can I know if you're serious?" Hunter responded. Jakob had screwed her over more than once... then again, he'd come through for her on the odd occasion when it was also beneficial to him.

"Well... don't do the favour and in the next few days keep an eye on the obituaries."

"You son of a-"

"Silence!" Jakob yelled cutting her off. "Insolent bitch," he muttered.

"Ah," Hunter said with sarcasm. "There is the Jakob I know."

"My nephew, he is flying into LAX. His plane lands at oh-five hundred. I need him _not_ to be picked up by NCIS who has him on a watch list."

Hunter grimaced. Betray her agency, help a man who was an extremist blackmailer get through airport security and into Los Angeles. "And how am I to keep them away?"

"I do not care," Jakob responded. "Just do it. Or suffer through the consequences."

He'd hung up, she did the same and threw her phone across the room into the wall. It hit with a crack and dropped to the floor. She stared at it for a minute, took a deep breath and started pacing.

::

Callen was happy to get home in one piece that night. He was exhausted, mentally and physically after the case. After a long hot shower and a shave he felt a little bit better.

His stomach rumbled loudly, but there was nothing but a single bottle of beer and a quarter of blackberry jelly hanging out in the back of his fridge. He let out a annoyed sigh and slammed it shut. His eyes were growing heavy anyways and he walked along the hardwood in his bare feet.

Yawning he pushed open the door to his room. His chess board sat on the floor on a Russian book. His bedroll was spread out on the floor and looked particularly inviting. He set his alarm on his phone and laid down careful of his aching ribs. He closed his eyes, but sleep seemed to be rather elusive.

He laid on his back, and then on his stomach. He rolled to his right side, and then carefully onto his left. He ended up back on his back he yawned again, but it didn't seem to matter how exhausted he felt... sleep wouldn't come.

::

Hunter counted sheep. She recited street names in the downtown core. She thought in only in French, and then she tried out German. She let out a yawn, sat up, fluffed her pillows and laid back down.

She rubbed her eyes. "Crap," she muttered sitting up her eyes stung, yet again she'd forgotten. She climbed out of bed, put on her purple slippers and shuffled to the bathroom. She opened the cabinet under the sink and pulled out the two sided container she opened both of them and filled them with the cleaning solution.

She looked to the mirror. Her hair dark, straight and lengthy. Nose thin and long, lips thin and wide. She frowned. Eyes, deep brown. She blinked hard and then held one eye open with one hand and her finger touched over her iris and then moved slightly left peeling away the thin plastic contact.

One deep brown eye, and one uncovered bright blue. "This cover sucks," she muttered to herself. Having to wear contacts was fine, she had to anyway given her less than stellar vision, but the coloured ones always gave her a start when she'd catch a reflection of herself, it was always so strange and unfamiliar, even to she who earned her living as an undercover agent.

"You're not getting anywhere," she told her reflection as she moved the second contact and gave it a slight pinch to remove it blinking a few times she put the contact with it's brother and covered them putting both the case and the solution back under the sink. She looked back at her reflection and put her hands on her hips. "So what are we going to do about this entire Jakob situation?" She asked her reflection. "No advice, huh?" She rolled her blue eyes. "Go figure. Nothing on my actual case either? No? Didn't think so." Her palms ran over her tired eyes. Her legitimate case was giving her a hard time, she didn't need this interference from Jakob but she couldn't risk turning him down. She had to do this for Jakob. No matter the consequences with her job. She needed to know the threat to her brother. Despite making that decision, she still felt uneasy... but could she live with herself if he got hurt and she could have been forewarned? "Damn it." Deciding that talking to oneself was likely a sign to get some sleep she returned to the bedroom, kicked off the slippers and slid back in under the covers.

Her thoughts wouldn't stop. She looked at her clock and frowned. Seven hours to sleep and get to the airport. A plan forming in her head she knew she'd need to use the time wisely. Forgetting sleep she started to move preparing for the day to come.

::

Henrietta Lange had lived a long life. She had her shining moments, had struck terror into the hearts of men twice her size, but... she had her fair share of regrets.

Not disobeying orders and saving Clara, that was a regret that had spawned off more and more regrets. She wondered what she could have done to help G Callen more... she had tried, watched from a distance. And Amy... poor Amy. The two children might have been spared their terrible lives had she just saved their mother.

There wasn't a tea to cleanse away such a regret, to calm one's mind when such failure is all they can seem to think about.

::

**Thank you for reading!**


	5. Chapter Two

Hunter had _plenty_ of information. Information was the best currency and she wasn't above blackmail. This was how she got her hands on an authentic LAPD officer's uniform with fake name badge and number but it looked real enough for anyone passing by. She donned a wig with it, a blonde bob, her real hair under a cap. She put in green contacts a little rouge on her cheeks and a quick layer of gloss on her lips before grabbing her gun and holstering it as she walked out the door of the hotel she'd gotten ready at. After all, she didn't want to walk out of her aliases apartment wearing an LAPD uniform, who knew if it was being watched.

Exhausted from the sleepless night she carried a thermos of strong coffee with her to her car. She frowned at the blue Toyota Camry. She hadn't had enough warning from Jakob to be able to get her hands on another vehicle. If NCIS looked into how Jakob's nephew, Andrew, got through security and started searching security cameras...

"Shit," Hunter muttered to herself. It had become one hell of a pickle. She left her car and walked a few blocks keeping her head away from cameras and entering a dead zone. _Sorry about this,_ she thought as she popped the lock on a late model car and immediately started hot-wiring it. With the new car she sped off hoping that she'd get a few hours before it was reported stolen. Putting the petal to the floor she drove toward LAX going over her plan in her mind.

::

Callen walked into the office energized from a night's worth of coffee. Kensi was already there and writing up reports. "Morning," he greeted. "How's your partner?"

"Fine," Kensi replied. "Didn't even have a concussion. Must have a thick skull."

"I heard that!" Deeks said indignantly as he walked around the corner dressed in blue jeans and a plaid shirt.

"I'm just glad you're alright," Kensi said with sickening sweetness.

Deeks rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you're wishing I had a concussion and was benched for a few days so you wouldn't have to deal with me."

"It would be like a mini-vacation," Kensi said wistfully with a smile.

"Minus the hotness," Deeks pointed two thumbs to himself. "What kind of vacation would that be."

"You're right," Kensi said, her voice dripping with so much sarcasm the eye roll was over kill. "However would I manage."

Deeks smiled and shook his head as he walked to his desk, his back turned to her. "You'd be lost without me."

Kensi looked to Callen while Deeks's back was still turned and mimed strangling herself. He chuckled at their antics and shook his head throwing his duffle down by his desk. He sighed when he saw the stack of new files in his inbox. He looked up to the second floor half hoping they'd get a case so he wouldn't have to do paperwork, but it didn't happen. Sitting down he got to work.

::

Hunter made her way through LAX, she spotted two men whom she figured to be NCIS Agents from the San Diego branch. She could tell by the way they carried themselves, the way some had papers but weren't reading them. She knew she had to be careful, especially when she seen Special Agent Nassir from the OSP branch of Los Angeles. She had spoken to the agent a few times, he was a good man, and a fine agent.

She moved quickly and seen the man who matched the picture Jakob had sent to her burn phone. He stood at least a foot taller than she did, dark blond hair and deep green eyes. He wore a charcoal suit which she suspected cost more than she made in a month. She purposely bumped into him. "Jakob sends his regards," she said grabbing onto his arm. "The Boardwalk is wonderful this time of year," she told him the code and he nodded.

Andrew Harris followed her through employee only sections that she knew like the back of her hand. She'd done plenty of missions and captures that had involved knowing the layout of LAX well. She easily got him out and they were well into the parking lot before he finally spoke. "I'm happy to see my Uncle sends a messenger in such a fine package."

She turned and glared coldly at him. "I need something from Jakob. Jakob needs you not to get picked up by the NCIS agents that are crawling all over LAX right now. If you want to get to him, you need to shut up and keep moving. And don't try anything with me," Hunter said coldly. "Your Uncle never specified that I had to deliver you alive."

Andrew chuckled. "I like you." He followed her to the stolen vehicle where she started playing with wires until it roared to life once again. "I take it this isn't yours."

"I lost the keys," Hunter said with sarcasm.

"You've got balls, I'll give you that," Andrew said shaking his head.

::

Hetty enjoyed her office, she loved being surrounded by items that told a story. Everything in her office spoke of times that needed to be remembered. Happy memories of tea over all friends were preserved in her floral pot. Pride was in every wood grain of her desk that she'd been given after a particularly successful 'mission' that had been off the books. It had been something done simply because it was right, and though the man could not pay, the woodworker could give part of himself in his work. There was grief in the reports she kept in the top drawer of the desk, the files of Agent Sullivan and Agent Vail, these especially needed to be remembered, the risks of the job and a constant reminder that life was short and needed to be cherished.

Callen sat at his work station, and he was easy to see from her desk. He was a living reminder of her failure, of her inability to act... some orders needed to be disobeyed and that was a lesson she had learnt the hard way.

She'd lied to him. She'd hidden things from him.

Frankly, it shocked her he was still here, that he still spoke to her with respect after she'd told him about his mother... about her failure to protect her.

And the young boy had been there, and witnessed his mother murdered. That, in Hetty's mind, was her own fault. She might not have held the gun, nor pulled the trigger, but had she had the gumption to go forward, disobey the order, and help her... maybe Clara would have been saved. If Clara had been saved then G Callen would know what the 'G' stood for, he would have been raised with his mother, not in all those orphanages and foster homes... he would have known family... and who could take a guess at what kind of man he would be then, or what type of occupation he would have. And what about Amy? What kind of life would she of had?

"Hetty?"

Hetty looked up surprised she'd been snuck up upon while her mind had been elsewhere. "Agent Callen," she responded giving a little nod of her head. It was hard to look the man in the eye, she cared deeply for him, and yet... she knew she was the cause for many of the hardships in his life.

He waved a couple of completed files in his hand and dropped them into her inbox. "You look like you could use some tea," he said to her. "Would you like me to make you some?"

She could tell he was worried, it was in the set of his slightly lowered eyebrows, his blue eyes intently watching her for signs, a press of his lips. She couldn't figure out why, after so many lies that she'd admitted to him, and many more she still kept hidden that he would trust her so, and more than that still care for her in such a way to worry when she wasn't acting quite right.

"I never say no to a good tea," she responded with a slight smile.

He stared at her a moment longer, obviously unconvinced. "Chamomile?"

"That sounds lovely," she nods. She watched him walk away and she straightened her spine, she needed him focussed on his job, not worried or suspicious of herself. She focussed on work of her own and dug into it.

::

Hunter looked over at Andrew. "Call Jakob."

"Maybe I like driving around with you," he said shooting her a smile. Hunter said nothing as she parked in an underground parking lot. She turned slowly and glared at him. "Fine," Andrew sighed. He pulled his phone from the inner pocket of his suit jacket and thumbed through his contacts. She waited as he put the phone to his hear. "Uncle," Andrew greeted. "Can I keep her?"

Hunter pulled a knife from her boot and flicked the switchblade open she glared at him as she cleaned under her nails carefully. She got satisfaction when his adam's apple bobbed nervously.

"Yeah, I know the place," Andrew responded to the voice. "Take the PCH and take a left onto Westchester," he told Hunter.

::

Andrew was annoying at best. Hunter followed the directions and he told her to pull off into a park. Small children were running around laughing, young parents sitting on the benches, or pushing their young on the swings.

Hunter found herself with her maternal clock ticking loudly in her ears. She yearned for a family to call her own, children included, but she couldn't have it, not with so many enemies breathing down her neck. She gave herself a mental slap in the face. She needed to be focussed. She needed to be alert to meet with Jakob. She shifted in her seat taking off the LAPD shirt, wearing a plain black one underneath, she shoved it into her duffle bag along with the fake badge clipped to her pants. She pulled off the wig too and shoved it in.

"Damn, I thought you were a real blonde," Andrew said shaking his head. "Guess that was foolish thinking, I'm in Los Angeles."

"Shut up," Hunter said under her breath as Andrew continued talking. She opened the door and Andrew took it as a hint to follow, with the duffle she shut the door and only then did she take off the gloves she'd been wearing to keep her fingerprints from showing up inside of the car, she shoved them in the duffle bag too.

Hunter did a quick look around. No cameras. One child being pushed on the swing by an elderly woman. What appeared to be a set of siblings were playing on the jungle gym while their mother read a book on the bench not far away. Lastly a young couple playing with their son on the teeter-totter the woman looking like she had another bundle of joy coming her way.

She shoved down her jealousy and saw the lone man sitting at a picnic table far enough away from everything that they wouldn't be overheard. _Jakob_. She steeled her spine, grabbed Andrew's arm and walked purposefully over to the table.

"Jakob Harris," Hunter tried her best to keep her voice steady but there was a tremor of anger just under the surface.

He smiled. "Nice contacts," he said.

"Is anything about you real?" Andrew piped in.

She closed her eyes trying to control her temper.

_You loose control of your emotions, and the enemy has the upper hand. _

She knew the lessons. She lived by them. She opened her eyes her lips pressed tightly together until she knew the words would come out as she wanted them. "I brought you your nephew, and let me tell you that LAX was covered with agents. I held up my end of the bargain. You're a man of your word, aren't you?" She went for a stab at his pride, something she knew would make him feel like he had to answer her. "The threat to my brother. What is it?"

Jakob made a simple hand gesture. "Sit, I'll tell you."

::

**Thank you for reading!**

****Note:** **Special Agent Nassir was the agent that Callen tied to a cinder block and dropped into the water in the episode Found, during a rouse. According to IMBD he also shows up in Exit Strategy- I'll have to watch it again. **


	6. Chapter Three

Hunter looked over at Jakob and didn't see much of a choice but to sit opposite to him at the picnic table. She didn't like picnic tables. The bench seats were awkward to get out of and could be problematic in a fight. She looked around the open area and seen nothing to get worried over so she sat down. "The threat," Hunter prodded impatiently.

"Yes," Jakob said before he coughed harshly into a handkerchief. He then looked back up at Hunter. "The Fairchild family."

Hunter closed her eyes. The Fairchild family were criminals. Each and every one of them. Back in the day they'd mostly been mercenaries, guns for hire. Some had expanded since then, gun runners, drug smugglers and human traffickers. Zero morals, and all in for the money. They were directly linked to the Comescu family who had given them start up funds, and were part owners of their multiple criminal enterprises. _The 'family business.' _During the old days, many of the Fairchild men had been employed as mercenaries and bodyguards for the Comescu women. Some of the Fairchild's still worked directly for the Comescu family.

"What do they want?"

"The same thing the Comescu's want," Jakob said as if it was obvious. "Your brother. In a body bag."

The image the words produced in her head made her stomach lurch. She opened her eyes. "Why?" Understanding the 'why' in any situation always helped. _The reasons behind an action is often just as important as the action itself. _The reason could hold the keys to the defence.

"The Comescu family is now much smaller in numbers, but they are now angrier then ever. Especially after the death of Alexa." Jakob coughed, covering his mouth with the handkerchief. When the fit was over his eyes locked onto hers. "They've put a price on your brother's head. A high one. Every single one of the Fairchild's want in on it."

The Fairchild's were a large money hungry family that had no regard for innocence, or human life. Her jaw tightened as she fought to keep her anger leashed. The Fairchild's would do anything to get what they wanted... and they wanted her little brother dead.

"Crap," she muttered under her breath. She was trying to keep her brother out of everything that involved these damned family wars. She looked up at Jakob. "Do you know anything else?"

Jakob nodded. "I know that both Quinn and Alistair Fairchild flew into LAX yesterday."

Hunter steeled her spine. She knew of both. They were siblings, Alistair had muscles, but the Fairchild princess, Quinn wasn't to be dismissed, she looked small but she was absolutely vicious and just as deadly as her older brother.

Jakob stood. "I need to be going. Keep my card. Call if you need a favour."

_As if I'd ever want to owe you, _she thought bitterly.

"See you around Sugar," Andrew said shooting her a smirk as he followed his uncle.

Hunter fought the urge to make a gagging sound. She waited until their car drove off and then she grabbed her duffle bag and walked in the opposite direction leaving the park and finding a pay phone she called a cab. _What the hell am I going to do about this? _she thought, _how can I possibly keep him safe from this?_

::

The field team returned at noon feeling pretty righteous. They'd been called in at four in the morning when missiles had been stolen, and they'd found the guys, had the missiles rounded up and delivered to the military base by lunchtime. Yeah, their egos were getting a little inflated.

"Well done," Hetty said giving them a little clap. Deeks made a bow and Kensi pretended to wave to a crowd of adoring fans. Sam and Callen shook their heads at the antics of the younger duo.

"Hey now," Eric said from the landing of the stairs. "I think we get some of the credit," he said rocking his thumb from pointing to himself and then to Nell and back to himself again.

"Couldn't have done it with out you two," Callen said giving credit where credit was due.

The tech duo knew that, that was the best they'd ever get from the Senior Agent-In-Charge they smiled and high-fived.

The field team went into the office to get to work on their debriefing papers. Quickly scrawling out the answers and details of the case.

::

By lunch time Hunter had disposed of the duffle bag and returned to Elisabeth Chance, her alias's, apartment. She was still on edge, Jakob's words ringing in her ears. She paced in the kitchen. "Crap, crap, crap," she muttered. She had her own case, she was trying to figure out a blackmail ring that was attacking high ranking military officials. She needed a lead, but all she kept getting was dead ends.

She needed to check up on _him_. She needed help on this case, a push so she could get in, get it done and get back to her real job. It didn't pay, but it was one of honour.

_He's your little brother, it's your job to protect him. _

Rubbing her temples, she tried desperately to figure out what to do. On impulse she grabbed her keys and jacket and headed out the door.

::

Callen was finishing off the last of his paperwork when he caught the swift movement of someone walking with purpose in the corner of his eye. He turned to look and immediately tensed. Lauren Hunter. _What the hell is she doing here? _He thought. He was still pissed off that she hadn't given him any information, that she'd stonewalled him, that she'd sent them all on a wild goose chase while she was backstopping an alias.

He looked over at Sam who had also noticed. Sam gave a shrug of his broad shoulders and shot Callen a warning look that clearly read 'don't make trouble where there isn't any.'

Callen rarely if ever heeded the warnings of his partner. He stood and walked around his desk catching the attention of Kensi and Deeks.

"I wish I had popcorn," Kensi said tracking Callen with her eyes.

"And some soda," Deeks added.

::

Hunter could feel his tense anger behind her and she sighed. "Agent Callen," she steeled her spine as she stood and turned to face him.

"Agent Hunter," he replied and she could tell he was losing the battle to be civil. He looked much like he had when she'd left, same hair cut, five o'clock shadow, there was still simmering anger in his bright blue eyes. He wore jeans and a old t-shirt which was as close to a uniform as he got in his day-to-day life.

"Agent Hunter is here in search of information for a case," Hetty said trying to break the tension that seemed so palpable that could be cut with her letter opener. There was a warning in her voice, and in her eyes.

Callen disregarded the silent warning as he had with Sam's. "Really? And how did that backstopping work out for you."

"Quite well, thanks for asking," she replied dropping sickening sweetness into her tone forcing a smile upon her face. She crossed her arms over her chest in a defensive gesture.

Callen shook his head. "Why are you here? Really?" he spoke with his hands. "You aren't from this branch."

"Mr Callen," Hetty's rebuked. "You will behave in a professional manner in this office. Understood?"

"I'm just curious," Callen defended, but his tone was far to serious for how casual he was trying to act. He knew it too. Hunter always managed to raise his temper, and he rarely lost control of it. He was a chill, go with the flow kind of guy, one had to be in undercover work. Losing your temper could get you killed.

"I require information," Hunter said cooly. "For that I needed to talk to Hetty, Hetty needs to clear it with Vance." Which was true. Mostly. For her case she really did need something extra to push forth in the case and for that she needed to get it cleared with Vance, through her handler, Hetty. True, she wasn't 'technically' from the OSP branch, but technically speaking she didn't work exclusively for any of them. Her only consistent boss was Vance. Since she was operating in Los Angeles, Hetty had been assigned her handler.

They stayed in a cool stare off, his blue eyes against her green contact covered ones.

"Mr Callen, don't you have a report to finish?" Hetty said.

"Done," Callen replied not looking at her.

Hunter put her hands on her hips. "Your disposition towards me is unbecoming. We're on the same side."

Callen gave a bitter laugh as he turned. "I'm not so sure."

::

Hunter had new intelligence for her case. She warmed up some left overs and ate the bland food with out interest as her eyes quickly scanned over the documents in the comfort of her apartment... or her aliases. Whatever.

The parting words that Callen had left with her stung. She tried to pass off the ache in her chest as heartburn, but she knew better. She gave her head a sharp shake and forced herself to keep her eyes on the file. It was helpful, she supposed, but with the Fairchild's moving in... she needed to close this thing up _yesterday_.

She needed to find the Fairchild siblings and keep tabs on if anyone else flew in. "And just how do you plan on doing that?" She muttered bitterly to herself. She had plenty of contacts, but most of them wanted nothing to do with the Fairchild family. They were terrifying and had a way of decimating entire generations. There were some contacts that she already knew wouldn't be any help. And the few that could... she wasn't sure if she even wanted to call them. Men like Jakob she didn't like being indebted to.

"What other choice do I have," she muttered to herself throwing out the rest of the stale food and tossing her fork in the sink.

::

Hunter found herself in her car driving around the streets. It had been a long day, the darkness had come upon the city, but the city fought back with it's flashy business signs and lit up apartment buildings.

The blackmailing ring was at the back of her head. In the file there was a man who could be connected loosely to all of the military officials that had been blackmailed into giving large sums of money. It could be nothing. It could be everything. She needed to get the case over and done with, she didn't have more time to do more digging.

It was late, and the man's favourite watering hole was on a bad side of town. She didn't like this. She didn't want to have to use her gun. She couldn't take this guy out even if he did hold a gun to her, she needed him alive. She needed answers. She needed to close this damn case down and cash in on her vacation time.

She knew she shouldn't go in the bar. She should wait for morning, go to the man's home address when he's hungover and best of all, alone.

"I don't have the time," she whispered to herself with a note of defeat. She ran both her hands through her long dark hair. She took a few steadying breaths and pulled her hair into a pony tail, last thing she needed was to have her hair in the way during a fight. She grabbed her gun from the glove box and got out of her car.

The night was balmy but she kept her jacket on to hide the gun she tucked into the back of her pants. "Salvatore Montoya," she whispered the snitches name, closed her eyes and recalled his face from the file. She opened her eyes, steeled her spine and forced herself to put one foot in front of the other despite the foreboding feeling in her gut.

She wore her ankle length combat styled boots. She looked ready for battle in her jeans, t-shirt and leather jacket. She went to the mind frame of the most bad-ass alias she had in her repertoire. It gave her no delusions of coming out of this smelling like roses though. Worry still gnawed at her insides.

_Never make a move in desperation. It's guaranteed to be a stupid one. _

She knew that. She knew this was desperation, she knew her plan, or lack thereof was a real problem. She could blow this entire case if she didn't play this right... but here she was anyways making the desperate man's move. She couldn't afford to make a mistake, and yet, here she was knowingly making one. She took a deep breath in hoping she was as good at getting herself out of a mess as she was at getting into one.

::

**Thanks for reading :)**


	7. Chapter Four

**Thank you to everyone who's taken the time to review, I really appreciate the feedback :) **

::

She pulled open the door to the bar and was bombarded by the smoke, despite the no-smoking bylaw. Apparently no one on this side of town paid any mind to such things. The bar was old, cherry wood, worn out and appeared to have a bloodstain on the side. There weren't many people. Six patrons, but the space was crammed and six unknowns plus a bartender who looked like he was hopped up on steroids didn't fill her with optimism.

She found Salvatore Mantoya sitting alone in a booth. She walked up to the bar and ordered a drink. She wasn't really one for liquid courage, but it couldn't hurt, besides having the glass handy as a weapon wasn't exactly a downside.

She swirled the whiskey on the rocks in her glass, the ice cubes snapping with the warmer liquid. Get the blackmailers. Put them away. Protect the military official's secrets. Finally get to what she really needed to be doing, hunting down the Fairchild family.

She tossed back the amber liquid and stood taking the empty glass with her, the ice tinkling against the sides. She sat in the booth, since he was in the back corner she was stuck having her back to the other patrons, a situation she knew she shouldn't have walked into_._ Taking this seat went against every instinct, every bit of training she'd ever had.

Salvatore's eyes seemed dead to her, a dull grey blue in colour, ashen face, she supposed years ago he might have been handsome before life seemed to have become an anchor attached to his ankles, a weight he was tasked with carrying. "Who the 'ell ar' ya?" He was butchering the English language. Being a linguist, Hunter grinded her teeth trying to keep her cool.

"Elisabeth Chance," she replied easily. She knew what she was about to do would either make her case or completely break it. If it was the later, Hetty would chew her out, and then send her up to video conference Vance so he could do the same, and that was being optimistic.

He knocked back another shot of a clear liquid and added it to the stack of upside down shot glasses. Quick count, six. Enough to make a man pissed of and volatile, not too much to make him completely incapable of putting up a good fight. Lady Luck seemed to have abandoned Hunter.

"I don't know no 'Lisabeth Chance."

She fought the urge to roll her eyes at his lazy way of saying her alias's name. "How about Major General Nicholas Bateman?" She watched his eyes as they hardened. _Got you,_ she thought.

"N'ver h'rd of 'im," Salvatore slurred.

"How about Vice Admiral Ryan McGinney?" Hunter tilted her head maintaining eye contact with the drunk. His lip curled up with a bit of anger and she knew she was stepping on nerves. _Oh yeah, he knows something. _

"Ain't ever h'rd of h'm either."

"I don't believe you."

"I don't care what ya believe, girlie," he replied leaning into her and she could smell the booze on his breath, her nose pinching up in disgust. She noticed movement to her left, and knew she was in trouble. To the right was the wall of the booth, and now there was a big body pinning her in from the other side, one hand on the seat, the other on the table. She steeled her spine and tightened her grip on the glass.

"Nosey little bitch," the man to her left said. She looked over at him and recognized him from her surveillance work on the case. _They're in it together_, she realized, her mind putting the pieces from earlier together and suddenly things were starting to make sense. While this did help her mental state, it sure as hell didn't help the more physical issue of being trapped.

"You're Craig Price," she said laying her cards on the table. "Technician. You broke the encryption," she whispered as her mind started to click the puzzle together the picture forming. "You got the information on the officials," she said looking at Price, she then looked to Montoya. "And you blackmailed them. Then you both split the profit."

Price grabbed her by the back of her jacket and hauled her out of the seat. "Let me go!" she cried out loudly in hopes that there was at least one decent man in the bar, no one stood up, no one pulled out their phone. Price grabbed the wrist of the hand she had the glass in and slammed it against the wood post attached the bar seat. She howled, her hand reflexively opened. The glass fell to the floor and shattered.

Price and Montoya lead her out the back door and Price shoved her down the steps and into the alley way. She landed hard on her knees before rolling and quickly getting back to her feet. Her jeans were ripped, her hands and knees were torn up from the cement. She clenched her hands into fists and got into a defensive posture.

"You want to fight, huh?" Price said with a smile. "I'll fight you... I'll pin you down," he smiled in lewd suggestion.

Hunter's heart sped up with an adrenaline spike of fear. A bead of sweat slid down the back of her neck. She rotated her right hand the ache from having her wrist slammed was dull and throbbing but she knew it wasn't broken, and would still serve her well enough in the fight. It had to.

Her hands clenched and unclenched as she prepared, circling one another though she stopped halfway around not wanting to put her back to Montoya. Price threw a punch and she put up her arms quickly in defence, she ducked down and around him circling away from Montoya, but putting her in a closed position by the wall giving more than half the alley space to the two other men.

Montoya bit on his thumb in contemplation before he started to join in on the chase, moving to her left while Price closed in on her right.

She didn't like the way she was losing space and did a quick look around for anything she could use to her advantage. There was a dumpster, a fire escape that was too high to get to, and too far from the dumpster to be of any use to her. There was trash, plenty of trash, but nothing that looked useful.

Luck was definitely not on her side.

Price lunged first, but given her space, she had no where to go unless she wanted to run right into Montoya. In the split second she tried to find a way out Price had her by the throat and one of her wrists. He pushed her back against the wall, her head knocking against the building and for a second her vision blurred.

Blinking a few times everything came back into focus, and things weren't looking any better for her. Montoya just smiled. "Girlie, ya should 'ave n'ver come to this side of town."

She kicked out but Price moved to her side and used his entire body to pin her against the wall more effectively. He outweighed her by plenty, he was at least a hundred and seventy of muscle. She weighed in at one thirty five and knew she was in big trouble. His head went to her neck and inhaled deeply. Disgusted she grabbed him by the hair with her free hand and gave a hard yank, with his head back she quickly jammed her thumb in his eye. She had no problems fighting dirty. He cried out in pain and let her go. He stumbled backwards trying to evade the source of the pain.

Montoya threw a punch, she quickly ducked but Price grabbed her by the hair and threw her back against the wall. "Damn bitch!" He didn't have time to pin her before she shot a fist into his gut and then two fingers to his throat. He stumbled back for a minute unable to breathe.

_Finally,_ she thought,_ breathing room_. She swung around and threw the first punch to Montoya's face, he stumbled back surprised by the sudden onslaught. She ducked down and swung her leg knocking his both out from under him in a well practised move knocking him onto his butt. She reached back for her cuffs but Price grabbed her ponytail and yanked back, her hands went to her hair as she stumbled back as he pulled her. A kick to the back of her knees knocked her to the ground, her gun pressing into her back surely leaving a bruise. Price sat over her mid section, grabbed her head and with a furious cry slammed her head against the ground.

Stars overcame her vision as she let out a pained cry. _Keep your head together, remember your training! _Quickly she slammed both hands over his ears and he clutched his own head. She thought for a second she might be able to get her gun but knew that drawing it or even going for the gun in such close quarters could be worse for her than for them. Instead, she went for the dirtiest move in the book and struck her fist out. His hands went over his family jewels as he rolled off of her in pain.

She climbed to her feet doing a quick tally of injuries. Her wrist, hurting worse but still fine. Back of her head, she was feeling dizzy and knew she needed to end it soon. Back of her knee, aching, trouble supporting weight, from previous injuries she knew it was likely to start swelling. The bruise from her gun, well... it was going to be uncomfortable being armed for a while.

With Montoya quickly advancing she weighted her options. Gun? Not an option. These men were military, they knew how to fight. In hand to hand, she stood a chance even when she was on the worst end. If they got a hold of her gun? Game over. She wouldn't risk it. Too much was riding on her making it out of the alleyway alive. Proper hand to hand? She was good, but taking down these two men would be a challenge, one she wasn't sure she could accomplish. Vicious dirty attacks? Oh yes, she was good at that. She was a survivor to the core of her being.

Preemptively she tackled Montoya. She needed him to be the one unsteady, and the last thing she needed was to be the one hitting the tarmac again. Landing on top of him she quickly straddled him and started landing vicious blows to his face. She looked back, Price was starting to get up. She stood too and landed a quick hard blow to Montoya's kidneys. The man cried out and curled up on his side.

She faced off with Price once again. She was getting tired, and slightly dizzy from the blows to the head. She knew she needed to get both men down long enough to cuff them and fast. Panting with the exertion and pain she ducked back as he threw a first punch, the second she caught to the stomach and a third to the jaw knocking her back. She quickly rolled and got back to her feet swinging around with a vicious, high roundhouse kick to his face. He fell back unconscious and she quickly went and cuffed Montoya before he could get to his feet.

Montoya started cursing, calling her every name in the book, but it drowned out to white noise as she ignored him and rolled Price over and slapped the cuffs on him.

She pulled her phone out from her jacket and she was grateful she hadn't shoved it in the back of her jeans, otherwise it might not have survived the fight. She called into Hetty.

"Yes," Hetty answered, ever careful not to use the real name of her undercover agent while on assignment.

"I got them Hetty," she said. "Can you send a pick up crew?"

"They'll be dispatched quickly to your GPS location," Hetty replied. "Good work, Agent Hunter."

Hunter sighed and hung up the phone and fought to stay standing as she listened to the sounds of the City of Angels at night along with Montoya's cursing.

::

Once a couple of detainment agents came to pick up Price and Montoya, Hunter left. She looked at her car and though about how irresponsible it would be to drive in her condition. Instead she pulled her coat around her and started walking knowing she wouldn't be able to get a cab on this side of town. Her right knee was causing her to limp in pain she sat down at the nearest bench and pulled out her phone.

A bitter laugh bubbled up in her chest as she looked at the contacts. She was surprised to find tears welling up and falling down her face. "Stupid," she muttered to herself wiping her face with the back of her hand angrily. Her eyes went over the contact list and it continued to sadden her. Six contacts. Five of them were contacts for the case. The sixth was Hetty. That was it. Who was she to call when she was aching, hurting and just needed a ride? What could she do when all she wanted was to go home and curl up in a ball and sleep for a week? Anything but that, she couldn't rest yet. There was too much at stake.

_Him. _A second bitter laugh bubbled up and a few more tears escaped. She closed her eyes tightly against the onslaught of emotions. Yeah, call him at one in the morning, the thought made her roll her eyes. That would go over well. He didn't like her when she showed up at the nine to five hours.

She used her phone to locate the number of a cab company and requested pick up. She shoved her phone back into her pocket and wondered if the cab would even stop when they seen the state she was in. She wiped the tears away and mentally scolded herself for allowing herself such a weak moment.

Alone on a bench, she waited in the middle of the night for a stranger to pick her up and take her home.

::

Her phone was dead by the time she got into her apartment, or more specifically Elisabeth Chance's apartment. She tossed her phone on the counter along with her car keys. She wondered if when she returned if her car would even still be there, after all parking on that side of LA was a risk you took.

She rotated her shoulders, her jacket falling to the floor. Usually she was immaculate, didn't leave anything out of place, but at that moment, she just wanted to ice her knee and go to sleep. Instead of bothering with getting the t-shirt over her head, she just reached under it and unclipped her strapless black bra and pulled it out from under her shirt. She went to the freezer and grabbed some ice and put it on a towel, she pulled her elastic from her hair and felt the blood that had dried there. With a shaking hand she gathered the towel and tied the elastic around it.

Limping, she made her way to the bedroom where she remembered her boots. She pressed her toe to the heel and kicked the first off and then did the same with the second. She put the ice pack on the bed while she took out her gun and put it on the night stand. She noticed the blood on her hands, the bruise that was forming on her arm where it was slammed against the bar post. She turned her back to the wall mirror and pulled up her shirt, sure enough her back was purple from where she'd fallen on her gun.

She undid the button and zipper on her jeans before she pulled them down her thighs. She sat down and put her hands on the inside of the pants as she pushed them over her swollen knee. She hissed in pain and bit down hard on her lip. "It's not that bad," she told herself looking at it. "It's not that bad," she insisted once again, stronger this time. She bent over getting the jeans off of her ankles. She brought her legs up on the bed and gently put the ice pack over her knee biting down on her lip once again.

Despite the throbbing pain of her injuries, exhaustion from the past two days finally forced her to succumb to a dreamless sleep.

::

"Don't mother me, Sam!" Callen complained as they walked down the office hallway with their morning coffee's in hand and go bag's slung over their shoulders.

"I just want you to find a nice girl," Sam did a nasally impression of his mother. Callen's head dropped back as he groaned and Sam chuckled before taking a sip of his coffee. Sam stopped and put a hand on Callen's shoulder effectively stopping the shorter agent.

"What?" Callen stumbled back a step and shrugged off Sam's grip.

Sam gestured with his coffee. "Hetty."

Callen looked over at the woman who kept shooting worried looks over to her cell phone. Callen sighed and wondered what it was about. "I'll talk to her," Callen said and passed Sam his bag, the large man shouldered it and went to go break up the fight that was getting louder and louder between Kensi and Deeks, a bickering argument that sounded like it was about fleas...

Sipping on his coffee he steeled his spine before entering the Duchess's domain. He sat down across from her and stayed silent occasionally sipping on his coffee or drumming a beat with his fingers on the arm of the chair.

"Mr Callen," Hetty said and he heard the strain in her voice. "Can I do something for you?"

"Perhaps I just wanted a change of scenery," he said with a smile.

She lowered her head and glowered at him over the rims of her glasses. "Mr Callen, what is it? Did you scratch the Jag?"

"No," Callen said quickly, he knew how protective of company cars she was, he'd never hear the end of it if he caused damage to the Jaguar he was currently driving.

"Then what? I'm a busy woman."

"Perhaps you should have some tea," Callen suggested. "I could make you some."

"I don't want tea."

Callen's jaw dropped a little bit. He rubbed his ear for show. "I'm sorry, I think I missed something there. What was that?"

Despite his attempt to be funny Hetty was to worried to even grant a smile. "Last night an agent finally closed a case and took down two men, requesting another agent to come for detainment and pick up. The agent I sent for pick up asked me this morning how my field agent is... I had no idea she had been injured." This got Callen to sit up a little straighter in his seat. He knew all of the agents in OSP even as only an acquaintance, the majority of people he could call 'friend' were undercover agents. "I keep trying to call... but I'm not getting an answer. I have a conference call with Vance in less than ten minutes, I'd rather be checking on my agent."

"I'll go," Callen offered.

Hetty sighed. "It's Hunter. Does your offer still stand."

There was an edge to Hetty's voice that made Callen feel ashamed. Did she really that he wouldn't go if another agent was hurt or in danger? That he couldn't put his personal feelings aside and help the agent despite their rocky past? "Yes. I said I'd go," he said grumpily.

The operations manager was quick to pull out a pad of paper and wrote down the address. She also pulled out a key. "Apartment six," Hetty informed him.

He stood taking the key, the paper with the address and his coffee with him. "I'll call to let you know..."

She nodded. "I'd appreciate it, Mr Callen."

::

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	8. Chapter Five

**I feel bad when I can't message anonymous reviewers to give my thanks :( **

**THANK YOU! **

::

Callen found apartment six easily enough. He put his hand on the gun that was concealed by his jacket before he knocked hard on the door three times. He waited, put his ear to the door and heard nothing. He hit the door another three times. "Hunter!" He called out, waited, nothing.

He pulled out the key and opened the door. The apartment was small, kitchen to the left that was clean, no dishes left out or in a drying rack. Her phone was there, he went to it and tried to get it to start up. Dead battery. "One mystery solved," he said to himself, at least now knowing why Hunter hadn't answered Hetty's calls... but it didn't explain why she wasn't responding to him knocking so loudly on the door or calling her name.

On the floor in the entrance to the living room was her jacket. He bent down beside the soft leather on the floor, there was blood on collar. Leaving it he kept moving, the living room had a couch, a chair and an old television along with a black lace bra on the floor. He looked in the bathroom, the door wide open, but other than a toothbrush and a bar of soap you'd never know someone even used it.

And that left the bedroom. He knocked on the door. "Hunter? It's Callen... Hetty sent me." He felt a little immature saying it, it was like saying, 'hey I'm here, but I didn't really want to be,' another jibe when she could be injured. With no response he opened the door.

Hunter was laying on her back, a t-shirt on and a pair of woman's briefs. Her right knee was purple, a little swollen, and a wet tied off towel which he assumed once actually had some ice in it had fallen off and was laying on the bed. He looked around, found a blanket and took it from a basket in the corner. He unfolded the soft material and draped it over her body, feeling weird being in the room when she didn't have pants on. She looked incredibly vulnerable as she slept, her mouth just barely open, her eyes shut, a hand hanging off the side of the bed, the other over her stomach.

"Hunter," he said poking her arm and quickly moving back. Waking up agents was always a touch and go kind of game. Some were viciously prepared to spring. Others woke lazily slowly coming to consciousness, processing every little detail before opening their eyes. "Hey! Wake up!" He said loudly. He stomped a foot on the floor hoping it would wake her. _She's dead to the world, _he thought. Swallowing hard, he wondered if the passing thought had any validity. Reaching out he put a finger under her jaw and against her pulse point. Steadily beating. He let out a sigh of relief. He remembered the blood on her jacket and wondered if she had a concussion. He put a thumb on her eyelid and pulled it open.

_Well. That worked._

She jolted awake, kicking and punching wildly sitting up her mind slowly processing what was going on. Callen jumped back away from the bed, his back hitting the wall of the small room. "It's just me! Hetty sent me!" He put his hands up to show he was no threat.

Hunter blinked a few times. She opened her mouth and then shut it quickly. She swallowed looked around the room and then back at Callen. "Agent Callen," her voice was overly controlled. "Why are you in my bedroom?"

"Hetty sent me to check on you," Callen explained quickly. "Another agent told her you were injured last night. She called, but you weren't answering your phone. I knocked a few times, called for you outside. Hetty gave me the key so when you didn't answer I let myself in." He slowly put down his hands now that he was sure she'd calmed down. "There was blood on your jacket... you okay?"

She rolled her eyes and instantly regretted it. Her head ached painfully. She put her head in her hands and groaned. "Yeah," she replied after a minute. Her hand slowly went around to the back of her head.

"There's blood on the pillow," Callen said softly knowing she had to have a vicious headache. "I can take you to the doctors."

"No," Hunter replied quickly. "I'll be fine."

"You at least need to get your knee fixed up."

Hunter looked down, she didn't remember getting a blanket. She then remembered that she hadn't been wearing pants. Her cheeks became rosy with embarrassment. "It's not that bad."

"It's pretty bad," Callen argued.

Hunter ground her teeth together to keep herself from arguing with him. "I need to shower. Would you excuse me?" She sat up straight and with as much dignity as possible. "And since _Hetty _was worried, could you inform her I'm just fine."

Callen knew the barb was aimed at him and his jaw tightened as he tried to contain his temper. She really knew how to push his buttons. Especially since Hetty had hit the same one earlier. "You can shower if you can manage on that leg, but I'm not leaving," Callen said. "Hetty wanted me to ensure you were okay. You're not. You're getting that knee fixed or it isn't going to heal properly."

Hunter was quiet. He had a point, she looked under the blanket at the knee, the swelling had gone down thanks to the ice. "I can take care of it," she decided.

With a sigh, Callen pulled out his phone but didn't leave the room. "Hetty, I'm with Hunter, her knee is pretty messed up. She's got a nasty gash to the back of her head." Hunter put her hand out in a silent request for the phone, he just smirked. "No, she doesn't want to go to the doctors, she said she can fix it herself." Hunter was getting fed up with only hearing Callen's side of the conversation and not being able to explain to Hetty herself what had happened. Besides, she could handle this just fine on her own. "I understand, Hetty," Callen said with a sigh and his eyes went skyward. "You sure? She might have a concussion."

"I do not have a concussion!" Hunter said loud enough for Hetty to hear it.

"You might!" Callen argued.

"No I don't!" Hunter argued right back.

Callen sighed and then held out the phone to Hunter. "She want's to talk to you."

Hunter put his phone to her ear. "Hetty, I'm fine."

"_Mr Callen tells me you've seriously injured you knee," _there was no mistaking the honest worry in Hetty's voice.

"It's nothing I can't handle," she replied calmly trying not to let a hint of her pain come into her voice. While she was talking to Hetty she kept her cool gaze on Callen, her eyes aching, she rubbed them. _Contacts,_ she remembered. She had forgotten to take them out before going to bed and now they burned.

"_Allow Mr Callen to set it properly," _Hetty insisted over the phone. _"He has had quite a bit of practice with such injuries." _

"Hetty, I said I can handle it," Hunter insisted quietly.

"_Miss Hunter,"_ Hetty's tone left no room for argument. _"If you don't allow Mr Callen to properly address your wounds, I will authorise him to take you directly to the hospital. And I'll make sure they keep you overnight. Those are your options. Now give the phone back to Mr Callen." _

Feeling completely patronized , Hunter held out the phone. "She wants to talk to you again."

Callen took the phone and listened to Hetty give him the same spiel. He sighed. "Yeah, understood." He hung up the phone and put it back in his pocket. He looked at her, she was rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palms. "You okay?"

"I slept in my contacts," she replied. "They're really bugging me."

"Um... do you want me to get something?" Callen had never worn contacts, his eyesight was just fine and he'd never felt the need to change his eye colour for a cover. "Is there little... contact... holders or something you need?"

"All the stuff is in the bathroom," she replied. She opened her eyes and pointed to the door. "My housecoat is hanging on the back, could you get it for me please?"

He closed the door partially to get the black silk robe from the back. Walking back over he handed it to her. "Thanks," she said taking it.

He grabbed her arm gently studying the bruise for a second before letting her go. "Pretty bad bruise, does it hurt?"

"Only when I touch it," Hunter replied a little shocked that he didn't sound angry or hadn't made a barb as to how much he didn't trust her. Then again, the day was young and she wasn't holding onto hope that this new attitude was here to stay. She pulled the house coat on and tied it around her mid section. She pushed aside the blanket and got a good look at her slightly swollen, purple knee.

Callen put a hand on her shoulder to keep her from getting up. The knee looked pretty bad and needed to be dealt with. "You know your options," he said, he hoped that the blood on the pillow made the entire situation look worse than it was. "Me or the hospital." She looked to have taken a pretty good beating, but she'd taken down two men and cuffed them so she did deserve a certain amount of respect for that.

Hunter let out a quiet sigh. Those were her only two options? The hospital would take hours, and she knew Hetty would pull through on the threat to keep her there overnight. Callen would likely do it as quick as he could, and that was what she needed. She was behind already, from the information she'd got from Jakob, Alistair and Quinn were both already in LA, and who knew how many more Fairchild's had flown or drove into the city trying to claim the prize.

"I can fix it myself," Hunter tried one last time. "Hetty would never know."

One side of Callen's mouth twitched. "Yeah, Hetty would never know?" An exaggerated eye roll followed his words.

Hunter sighed, he was right. "Fine. You. I don't have all day to wait around in a hospital."

He looked around the ill lit bedroom, he couldn't properly assess the situation in such poor lighting. He moved to her side. "Put your arm around me. I need to get you to the living room."

Trusting him completely, without question she put her arm around his shoulder. His arm went around her waist and he helped her get up onto her good leg. "Do you need to be carried?" he asked.

"No," she said. She'd hold onto what shreds of dignity and pride she still had left. She limped with him taking most of her weight as they made their way to the living room.

He lowered her carefully to the couch and sat on the leather ottoman. He grabbed her leg and without warning pushed it up a little. She hissed, her fingers digging into the upholstery. "Sorry," he said softly. "I'm just trying to assess your current range of motion."

Hunter studied him carefully. His face was impassive, no hints to the anger or belligerence he typically treated her with, he looked rather serene as he worked. She rubbed her eyes again, the contacts itching. He moved her leg again and she clenched her jaw trying not to make any noise.

"Your kneecap is out of place," Callen said quietly. Both hands lightly skimmed over her skin thumbs on either side of her knee as his blue eyes looked to her coloured contacts. "I'm going to adjust it on three okay?"

"Yeah, just get it over w-" words became a scream of pain as Callen's thumbs quickly slid her kneecap back into place. "What happened to three!" She yelled at him.

"You wanted me to get it over with," Callen replied with a straight face.

Her eyes fell to her leg as she gave it a testing move, it still hurt but not nearly as much as it had when the bone had been knocked out of place. She looked over at him. "Thank you," she said with utmost sincerity.

Callen was a little surprised by the open expression upon her usually guarded face. "Yeah, uh, you're welcome," the thanks caught him off guard.

She stood carefully trying not to put much weight on her injured leg. She wanted it to heal quickly, she couldn't have it being a liability while the Fairchild's were around. She looked over at him, he had stood when she did watching for any wavering in her stance, his arms slightly out as if ready to catch her.

Her eyes watered. "I got to take these contacts out."

"I need to clean the wound on your head... it's bad."

"Pretty bad, or bad-bad?" She asked.

He made a indecisive sound. "A lot of dried blood is making it hard to tell."

"Lovely," she responded dryly. He followed her into the bathroom and she got out the contact solution and case while he went and got a couple of towels and cloths from the small closet. She washed her hands quickly and dried them off. She opened her left eye and held it open with her fingers of one hand while she slid her index finger of her right hand across the iris pulling the contact away, she pinched the flimsy plastic between her fingers and pulled it away. Two coloured eyes. She quickly repeated the process taking the other contact out.

"You have a first aid kit?" Callen asked standing straight. "There isn't one in the clo...set." He'd never thought that maybe her eye colour wasn't real and was a shocked when she'd looked over her shoulder at him with piercing blue eyes.

She turned back and looked into the mirror, her blue eyes staring back. She'd purposely worn green around him to avoid any suspicions, though considering the information she had on him, he'd never suspect... "Yeah," she replied nonchalantly as she turned back and opened the cabinet under the sink pulling out a white tin box with a large red cross on the front.

Callen shook his head, so what, she had blue eyes. No big deal... but they bothered him. He pushed the thoughts aside as his eyes went to the back of her head, the blood coating the strands of hair. She had a mirror in her hand and reached around her head to hold it up using the two mirrors to get a view of the back of her head assessing the situation herself. She reached back and touched the wound, her face flinching in pain. "Probably be easier if I showered the blood out," she said. "It would make me feel better anyways."

Callen nodded. "Okay. You sure you can stand okay on that leg?"

"I can manage, it's feeling better now," she replied putting the hand held mirror back in the drawer she'd gotten it from. She turned to him. "I won't take long."

He nodded and left the bathroom closing the door behind himself. A few seconds later he heard the water running. Left in the little apartment alone he found himself becoming nosey. There was minimal food in the fridge, only ice cube trays in the freezer. Plates were plain white. There were no movies. No pictures. No books. No personal effects at all. Obviously, her alias wasn't an entertainer. Without anything else to sort through he sat down on the couch and closed his eyes. Her blue eyes familiar, and he felt foolish for such a thought. Blue eyes were blue eyes. Simple as that.

::

**Thank you for reading :)**


	9. Chapter Six

The water swirling around the drain in the shower was tinted pink. She hissed when shampoo got into the wounds on the back of her head and she rinsed quickly. The swelling in her knee was already going down and the pain was at a tolerable level, she figured her gait would be back to normal by the end of the day. This was good, she couldn't afford taking more time to heal. She needed to spend her time working her contacts and finding out everything she could about the Fairchild's, particularly Alistair and Quinn since she knew they were both already in town.

She shut off the water and rung out her long dark hair, mindful of her injuries. She dried quickly patting over her knee, grimacing as it shot a wave of pain through her body. Bruises and scrapes were all over her body and she seen them when she wiped the fog off the mirror on the back of the door. She touched a small bruise on her jaw, not too bad, easily could be covered with makeup. A fist size bruise on her stomach, just left of her bellybutton. She turned and looked over her shoulder to see the bruise that practically outlined her gun from when she'd been thrown to the ground still wearing it. Her elbows were scraped, so were her knees and palms. She touched the back of her head, and then looked at her hand, no blood. At least the shower hadn't re-opened any wounds.

Picking up her housecoat her mind kicked into gear. She put her arms through as she started making a mental list of who might be able to help her. Pulling the robe closed she tied it with quick fingers. When she opened the door, Callen was still on the couch, he lifted his head and looked at her, she walked directly to her bedroom and shut the door behind her. She had to get rid of him, surely he didn't plan on sticking around all day, right?

Rummaging through her drawers she threw a pair of dark navy blue panties and matching bra on the bed. Moving down a drawer she pulled out a grey camisole, two drawers down she grabbed a pair of straight legged black trousers that she figured wouldn't bother her injured knee. Tossing them on the bed she moved to her closet and pulled a navy blue blazer with flat silver buttons down the sides and at the wrists.

Moving as quick as she could she got dressed and then checked her reflection. Her still wet hair hung straight, with the first three buttons of the blazer done up it showed off her trim waist and gave the illusion of having more of a figure that she had. She was pretty straight, flat as a board on all sides, but with her job she was a master at the art of illusions. She took the time to braid her hair and grabbed her makeup kit quickly covering the bruise with more expertise than any woman should. She mixed colours getting it to blend with her skin perfectly. She added some eyeliner, mascara and slid a light pink lip gloss across her lips. She tossed the little makeup bag into her large purse that landed near her wallet.

She grabbed her gun and frowned. "Crap," she whispered. There was no way she could wear it without it pressing against her bruise. Thinking on it for a second she quickly took off the blazer and grabbed her shoulder holster from her closet. Fitting it over her camisole and thrusting her Glock 17 into the holster, an extra clip on the other side balancing the weight. She grabbed a second blazer from her closet that was a size bigger but in the same colour with rounded gold buttons that effectively concealed her weapon. She left it undone for easy access to her firearm. Grabbing her purse she took one last look around before leaving the room.

She spotted her black bra laying on the floor with a fair deal of embarrassment she walked over by it, Callen still had his head leaned back, eyes closed. She kicked the bra under the couch. "Sleeping on the job?" she said lightly as she walked past her discarded bloodied jacket and grabbed her phone from the counter in the kitchen.

"Nope," Callen replied standing up and walking over. "How's the knee feeling?"

"It's alright," she responded trying to get her phone to power up despite knowing the battery was dead. She tossed it in her purse and grabbed the charger out of a drawer. "I don't need a babysitter you know," she said tossing him a cool look as she walked past him and headed toward the bathroom.

Callen fell into stride just a step behind her. "You haven't let me get a good look at that head wound."

"It's fine. I washed out the blood," she said bending down trying her best not to show any signs of how much it pained her to bend her knee so much. She quickly grabbed a little kit of travel contact solution and threw in three different sets of contact lenses before standing straight. She closed the kit and put it into her purse. She opened a drawer and grabbed a toothbrush that was still in the wrapper along with a small bottle of toothpaste. "It's stopped bleeding, didn't hurt much when I braided my hair either, I'm fine." She turned and felt her heart speed up with nervousness as he stared at her, his eyes held intelligence and curiosity as he studied her face. "I want to be getting home to rest, but I assure you I'm fine. You can return to work now."

"Doesn't look like you're going home," Callen said and she must have looked puzzled because he pointed to her purse. "Travel sized items," he said with an inquisitive expression. "You don't pack up travel sized things when you're going to your home."

She felt foolish. He was a trained federal agent, a legend, of course he would pick up on something so small. Not wanting to, but rather needing to derail him she spoke coldly. "From what I hear, you have no idea about the concept of 'home.'" She almost flinched when he did, it was quick and if she hadn't been staring right at him knowing he'd respond in some way she wouldn't have even noticed. She also noticed the return of tension in his body, the slight narrowing of his eyes and she knew their momentary calm was over, the storm had begun.

Callen bit his tongue and shook his head. "Unbelievable," he muttered to himself. He didn't trust Hunter, didn't particularly like her either. He had come because Hetty was worried about Hunter and because it was quite simply, the right thing to do. "You're a real piece of work, you know that?"

Her blue eyes narrowed just a fraction. "Look, you came here for Hetty and now you can return to her like a good lapdog and tell her I'm just fine." She wondered if she'd taken it too far when the angry fire started to spark in his eyes. She turned on her heel and moved quickly to the front closet and started the internal debate on shoes. Running shoes were most practical but would be spotted as the thing that didn't belong in her outfit. She grabbed a pair of black boots with a slight wedge at the back that gave her an extra half an inch and she knew wouldn't mess up her stride, or trip her if she had to make a run for it.

"Lapdog?" Callen finally had found his voice and it was edged with rough anger.

Hunter knew she'd already crossed a line with the 'home' comment insulting his past and his current way of life. The 'lapdog' comment was insulting to his status as an agent and as a man. She figured him more of a Rottweiler. After all, she'd done a brief undercover stint at the American Kennel Club. She'd read into all the classifications and dispositions of breeds. Rottweiler's were labelled as confident, courageous dogs with the tenancy for self assured aloofness. Intelligent with a strong protective instinct for it's family though the dog is not quick to make such connections, they must be earned. She figured if there was ever a dog that could properly suit Callen, it would be a Rottweiler.

"I have places to be," Hunter said trying to keep him unsteady. "Tell Hetty I'm using up my sick days and that I'll call her once my phone has charged." She opened the door and went out into the bright sunlight of the new day. She needed to move, get to her apartment, get on her laptop, get her book of phone numbers and start making calls. The day was wasting. "Drive safely," she said over her shoulder looking at him as he stood angrily in the doorway. He stared at her for a second, threw his hands in the air in the universal 'I've had enough of this crap' gesture and walked in the opposite direction opting for the front stairs while she walked around the balcony to the back set.

"My car's still on the other side of town," she whispered to herself and then sat down heavily on the bottom step. "Crap!"

::

Callen got a call as soon as he was in the car, he lifted his hip and pulled his phone out of his jeans. "Callen," he answered quickly.

"_How is she Mr Callen?"_ Hetty's voice was worried.

"Fine," Callen replied sharply though trying to keep his tone nurtural after all it was Hunter who had pissed him off, not Hetty.

"_Her knee?"_

"Fine," Callen replied. "A little out of place but I fixed it. A little swollen, probably going to hurt for a while, but she's hardly even limping."

"_And what about her head? What's your verdict on the concussion theory?" _

"She took a good knock, but after she got her hair washed it wasn't bleeding, her eyes are clear, she seems fine," Callen replied trying to keep his temper under wraps. "I'm heading out now, she's going... to where ever she actually lives I guess. She said she'd give you a call when her phone gets charged."

"_Her car is on the other side of town,"_ Hetty wise voice said with a sigh._ "You should give her a ride." _

Callen hit his forehead off of the steering wheel. "Yeah, I'll offer." He hung up the phone and shoved it into the pocket of his jacket. After her comments, the last person he wanted in his car was Hunter, he hadn't been fond of her before but he genuinely disliked her now. Jamming his keys in he turned the car on and drove around to the back lot.

::

Hunter thought about a plan of action, she could just bus it across town but LA transit wasn't exactly the most reliable and it took forever to get anywhere. She was still plotting her next move when a car crawled up and stopped in front of her. Instinct had her hand moving to the butt of her gun inside the jacket. The car door opened and Callen stepped out appearing to be at war with himself, sparks of anger were still ready to catch flame. "You need a ride?" There was no denying the tension, the simmering anger behind the question.

"My cars on the other side of town," Hunter said. "You could just call me a cab."

"I'd rather kill you with kindness," Callen said with a sarcastic smile upon his face. "Give me the address and get in."

She stared at him a moment, the car ride would be long, awkward and hopefully silent if she played her cards right. "Hetty call you?" she asked starkly, playing a part she'd rather not. She wished she didn't have to, but if her attitude kept him away from her it was for the best.

"You're just a barrel of joy, aren't you?" Callen muttered rhetorically sitting back down in the car and shutting his door.

Hunter prattled off her address and Callen started driving again, turning on the radio to a level above comfortable listening to keep conversation non-existent. Despite the dull headache, Hunter was grateful, it gave her time to think.

::

Callen had gone above and beyond what he had needed to, she knew that as she watched his car drive off and merge back into traffic. She turned and headed into the lobby of her apartment building. Still, their last conversation left uneasy. She hit the 'up' button on the elevator and waited for it to come to ground level. The doors opened easily, the building was only four years old and everything still had that new shine to it. She pressed for the fourth floor and leaned against the back watching the numbers change until she was on her floor.

Stepping out she took a look down each side of the hallway out of habit and then went right. She kept her back straight as she walked, chin just slightly up like walking taller could hide the slight limp she couldn't help. She took a quick look around, there was no one around so she opened the door for the fire extinguisher, lifting it, she grabbed her apartment key that she wouldn't take on her mission. She closed the door back up and walked the rest of the way with the cool metal in her hand.

She pushed open the door after she unlocked it. She stood in the doorway looking for any signs that someone had been there while she had been gone. Everything seemed in perfect order. She put her hand on the butt of her gun as she took a step in and shut the door behind her. The apartment was quite spacious, to the left was the large eat-in kitchen she looked in, all white cabinets and appliances, the small light wooden table and two chairs were exactly as she'd left them, nothing out of place. She walked in further where the apartment opened to the living room. She had a couch, coffee table, a chair and a television, in the corner was a bookshelf that was full. A dog eared magazine sat on the table, along with a trio of cucumber melon candles, again exactly as she'd left it. She checked the bathroom, not having to worry about someone hiding in the shower since it was marble and glass. She walked into her bedroom and was pleased to see her home had been untouched.

She sat down on her bed, missing the familiar worn but beautiful and sentimental quilt that was draped over it. The soft blues, the vibrant yellows, her hands grazed over it and she felt a sense of peace wash over her. She allowed herself a few seconds to enjoy her home and then she was back on her feet, grabbing her laptop from her bedroom desk and taking it to the living room where the midday sun was giving ample lighting.

Sitting down on the couch she got to work accessing information on her laptop. She grabbed her phone charger and switched the hook up for USB and plugged it into her computer and her phone started charging. She knew some basic hacking, but nothing that was going to get her the information she needed. She pulled the elastic from her hair and ran her fingers through the still wet strands. "Call a friend," she muttered in a almost bitter tone.

The Sullivan family still owed her a favour, and a few had the knowledge to help. Unfortunately the last of that family had met a grizzly end after a three year war with the Rossetti crime family.

Jakob Harris had the sources, but he wasn't above screwing her over from time to time. If he did come through, she really didn't want to actually be indebted to him.

Ambrose Conway was one of the few decent hackers she knew, but she didn't trust him. Unfortunately she figured he might be the only one willing to deal considering Mikhail Fairchild beat Conway's brother to death in a bar fight. The Fairchild family's ruthlessness inspired fear, not many wanted to become a blip on their radar.

Since she only had the choice between one of Harris's henchmen or Conway for a hacker she picked up her phone and dialled in Conway's number from her list of contacts on her computer.

"_Hello?"_ A meek woman answered.

"I'm looking for Ambrose," Hunter replied leaning closer to her computer since her phone was still attached.

"_One moment please,"_ the woman responded and Hunter waited and waited.

"_Hello?"_ Ambrose's guff voice came on the line. The hairs on her arms and her neck stood at attention and a shiver ran down her spine.

"Conway, it's Hunter," she said. "I need to make a deal."

"_What kind of deal?"_ He asked suspiciously.

"Fairchild's are in town," she said and could practically feel the anger just in the sound of his breathing over the line. "They're a problem for me. I need someone to find out how many have flown into Los Angeles. I already know Alistair and Quinn are here."

"_And what do I get out of it?"_ Conway asked.

"A little revenge," Hunter responded her body tense, she shut her eyes and focussed on keeping her breathing even.

Conway was quiet for a long minute. _"And you owe me," _he responded. _"I'll hack into every airport in California, make sure any Fairchild coming into the state is known. I'll send the information to you, this is your cell phone right?" _

"Yes."

"_Good. Is that everything?" _

Hunter took a quick moment to think not wanting to have to call back. "Yes." Alistair and Quinn were too smart to use credit cards or bank cards under their own name, there was no point in owing more when it would be for nothing.

"_I'll send you whatever I get,"_ Conway said and then disconnected.

Hunter let out a breath. "That went better than expected," she said to herself. Now she needed to track down Alistair and Quinn and get her car back. She made herself a sandwich as she waited for her phone to charge and debated her next move. Car? She'd take a taxi and pray her car still had wheels.

Alistair and Quinn? Now there was a problem. "If I was looking to put a bullet in someone's brain, where would I start?" Hunter dropped her sandwich back onto the plate ripped her phone from the power charge despite it only having regained a quarter life. She threw it in her purse and practically ran from the door.

Home.

She'd start at her target's home.

::

**Thanks for reading, I foresee this story picking up speed pretty soon ;) **


	10. Chapter Seven

By the time she caught a cab and got back to her car her skin was practically crawling. She knew that he'd still be at work at this time, but it didn't stop that awful feeling in her gut. She made sure never to drive more than ten over the speed limit and abide by traffic laws, no going through red lights, or rolling stop signs. The last thing she needed was to be pulled over for a ticket, that would take more time than driving like everyone else.

Her car was nondescript. No hood ornament, no car labels on the back and certainly no bumper stickers. It was a Mercedes if someone knew the model, black in colour with a white interior, but the tinted windows did well to hid that fact. She drove by slowly the first time looking for anyone or anything that didn't belong. She seen nothing. No signs of forced entry. No one who looked out of place. She went around the block and parked a short walk from the house. She checked her Glock out of habit and made sure her blazer covered it as she got out of the car.

She moved with purpose, her blue eyes taking in the area counting the people in it, keeping eyes out for any nosey neighbours as she went to the gate. She shut the gate behind her and walked along the side of the house, she poked her head around the corner to find the backyard empty. She let out a breath and walked up the few steps to the back door and peered in as her hand when to the knob and gave it a test. Unlocked.

He wouldn't be so foolish. Alistair or Quinn, she suspected as she turned the knob and took out her gun. She took every step carefully, as quietly as she could with boots on. The place was in need of a renovation, she dated it to the eighties and it was obvious that since the property had come into his possession he hadn't done anything with it.

She swept through the rooms her heart. First one, empty. Second bedroom, empty. Third had books in a pile. A chessboard on the floor. An aged bedroll laid out. Her heart squeezed. She backed out of the room and made her way down the hall, stepping over the floor grate. The fireplace, a box on the mantle. A chair and a table with a puzzle book and a little potted plant. Whoever had been there, was gone. She tucked her gun back in it's holster and stepped up to the box.

Curiosity got the better of her and she opened it. A bulky toy soldier, she flipped it over in her hand studying it from every angle but she doesn't see anything special or remarkable about the object. Still she set it on the mantle with great care. She reached back inside and pulled out a photograph. She can tell it's him, she can't place his age, somewhere in the twelve to fourteen range she guessed, in the picture he was holding a little blonde girl in the air. He's happy in it, that much she can tell, she set it aside. She pulled out a yellow envelope next she bit her lip and opened it carefully taking out the photo paper inside.

A gasp escapes her lips and it's accompanied by a tear that falls from her eye before she can stop it. "Mom," the word falls from her lips and her breathing quickens as she tries to hold back a full blown crying jag. She quickly put's it back in the envelope, underneath are two files stamped with CIA logos, she flips through the very thin files. Her mothers, and her grandfathers. _Their mother's. Their grandfather's. _Memories rush through her mind, she sniffled a bit as she put everything back in the box exactly as she'd found it. She closed the lid to the tea box gently and then wiped tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand.

She took a moment to pull herself together, mentally scolding herself for such weakness. "Get it together," she whispered to herself once again looking around to make sure she hadn't disturbed anything before she went out the back door. She considered the lock... if he came home and found it that he'd be suspicious, paranoid and maybe that was best... but looking into the who behind it... _no_. She'd keep him safe, keep him out of these wars before he became nothing but a soldier in them. Bending down she took a set of lock picks from her purse and used them to lock the door. She tested it making sure the deadbolt was in place.

With the house locked up, she quickly walked back to her car with her head down. She took a quick look around before she got in and felt a little more secure behind the tinted windows. She checked her phone which was silenced and found new information from Conway. She let out a breath and started reading. _Finley Fairchild has flown in._ "Shoot," she whispered. Finley was older than the twins by a solid two decades, an uncle or cousin, she didn't really know the family tree too well. Finley was known to be a degenerate gambler with some pretty big debts to settle and a ruthless mercenary. Of course he'd come for the money, and he had the kind of abilities to get the job done.

She knew there wasn't much she could do, she took refuge at this point that he was safe at work. Well... she was fairly sure of that, so she waited in her car rather impatiently as the day went on. Night fell after many boring hours, though she'd spent years doing surveillance so she was pretty use to it. She wanted to make sure that when he came home, he came home to a empty house, no surprises.

A car drove by hers slowly, she pressed herself into her seat despite the tinted windows she worried she might be seen. The car pulled into the driveway. He got out of the car pulling his go-bag over his shoulder as she watched from a distance. He worked his way through a ring of keys till he found the one for his house and in a second he was inside the door shutting behind him. The light in the front room came on and she wiggled a bit in her seat, her legs were restless, her bottom was asleep and her back ached.

She needed help. She couldn't watch over him and hunt down the Fairchild's. If she waited to long to hunt them down their numbers would become too much. She rubbed her temples, if they were all in it for the money, they'd want to hurry and get it done before another member of the family beat them to the punch. She rested her head against the steering wheel. Who to call? Who could possibly help her with standing toe to toe with the Fairchild family? More, who would be willing? She lifted her head an inch only to drop it back on the wheel. "Crap," she muttered under her breath.

Jakob Harris had plenty of aggressive bodies for hire, but for her it would cost her more, a favour one she wouldn't want to repay. Something that went against her morals, like getting Andrew through LAX, which had been practically working against her own agency. If push came to shove though, for her brothers protection she'd ask Jakob. The biggest problem was that Jakob was risky, he had a bad habit of screwing her over if it served him.

Robert Williams might have experience needed, but she felt uncomfortable whenever she was around him. Feminine intuition she supposed, he was bad news, all kinds of bad news. The fact that she'd found out he had three charges of sexual assault against him didn't exactly make her want to call asking for help, but these were the kind of people you had to deal with in the underworld of shady deals and blood feuds.

She had a few other contacts, but knew they'd never agree to go up against the Fairchild's. No amount of money, no promised favours would ever make them agree.

Resting her head back against the headrest she knew she had a choice to make. Ask Harris, or ask Williams. She sighed as she started digging through her large purse, she pulled out her wallet and from it the card that Jakob Harris had left in her alias's apartment. Her fingers ran over the embossed symbol. "Better the devil you know," she whispered to herself.

::

Callen couldn't shake it. There was something off. He'd gone room to room trying to figure out what it was. Everything was where it should be, all the windows and doors were locked. The wood boards creaked in certain places in the old home as he walked through it. In the living room he opened the old tea box and peered in. Two CIA files, two pictures and one toy soldier. Nothing had been taken. Noting looked displaced. "I'm losing my mind," he muttered to himself closing it.

He walked to the kitchen and took a beer out of the fridge, popped the cap and took a swig before pressing the cool bottle against the back of his neck. The condensation from the bottle cooled him and ran down the column of his neck before being absorbed by the cotton shirt he wore. He figured at some point he could buy an air conditioning unit, but figured it more practical to just get a fan for his bedroom to keep him cool while he slept. He wasn't home much, and it seemed like a waste of money for both the unit and the energy bills.

Fussing around in the kitchen he found a couple burgers in the freezer and tossed them on the frying pan before turning on the element. He sipped his beer and wondered if he even had any buns for the burgers. No bread on the counter top, none in the cabinet where he occasionally threw a bag, and none on the top of the fridge where he occasionally put it and forgot about it. Blowing out a breath he resigned to eating the burger bun-less.

His mind drifted as the patties cooked. Drifted to the worry he'd felt when Hunter hadn't answered when he'd come into her apartment. The blood on the back of her coat. She'd been controlled when she'd awoken after the initial kicking and punching faze, so very controlled, voice tight as she'd spoken to him. And then they'd actually talked like two human beings, hostilities dropped for a moment and in that moment he'd worried a bit for her. When he'd seen the blood on her pillow case, the awful bruising on her knee, the slight discolouration to her jaw where he suspected she'd been punched.

He took another sip of beer as he contemplated. She'd been human for a moment. Not Agent Hunter, but Lauren the woman behind the mask. He put the beer down and flipped the burgers over, the patties sizzling in the pan. She'd been sincerely thankful when he's popped her knee back into place- after the entire yelled, _"What happened to three!"_ moment. She'd been open, secure in her vulnerability and that more than anything made him curious. They had a rocky past, their few meetings a cocktail of barbed words, a good dose of distrust, a splash of barely contained annoyance, a pinch of anger that was then shaken violently, not stirred.

He poked at the burgers a bit and decided they needed to cook a little longer. He took another swig of beer. Then there was the bathroom, when he'd been looking for the first aid kid, he'd been caught so unaware by her startling vivid blue eyes he'd faltered in his speech. Blue eyes were just blue eyes. Green were green. Brown were brown. Simple as that... but they were nagging, some kind of gut instinct told him it was more but he couldn't see it, wouldn't see it. Sometimes you stare right at something and find yourself completely blinded.

_"I want to be getting home to rest, but I assure you I'm fine. You can return to work now."_ Her words replayed in his mind. Polite, he decided finally. Politely trying to get rid of him. The travel items she'd put in her purse... she obviously didn't intend on spending a lot of time at home. That was when she'd switched tactics, turning on the anger something that was usually his fault in their meetings.

She tried to be civil and his temper got away with him... this time though it was her. _"From what I hear, you have no idea about the concept of 'home.'"_ her words were cold and they ached in his chest. He looked around the empty kitchen, he had a view into the equally sparse living room. Maybe he didn't get 'home,' but maybe since he didn't 'get it' he didn't mind the emptiness, the lack of items. Maybe because he didn't know the feeling of security, of love and of warmth a home could give he didn't miss it as he lacked it. Still the words were like razor wire, ripping into his past. Maybe he would have known 'home' had everything not been taken from him at such a young age.

Of course, her words had set off his temper, no one he'd ever known had been able to make him snap so easily, so frequently. She was the most infuriating human being he'd ever come across, one that constantly kept him off balance. _"Look, you came here for Hetty and now you can return to her like a good lapdog and tell her I'm just fine."_ Callen's grip on the beer bottle tightened at the thought. She sure knew how to go right for a man's pride. He downed the rest of the bottle and put it in the little recycling bin under the sink. She'd been trying to make him angry, trying to make him go away, trying to keep him at arms length. They'd been fine, and then they weren't... _again. _

The burgers were cooked and he put a lid on the thoughts. They'd been civil to one another because she'd been injured. That's it. End of story. No more thinking about it.

But his suspicious and paranoid nature told him to listen to his gut. He was missing something. Something big. Annoyed with his thoughts, he got out a second beer, blue eyes haunting him.

::

**Thanks for reading :)**


	11. Chapter Eight

"You good G?" Sam asked after ten minutes of driving, stuck in traffic on their way to work.

"Yeah," Callen replied.

Sam rolled his eyes disbelievingly, he could tell his partner was distracted. Callen rarely got distracted and Sam couldn't help but speculate on what might have sent his partner off course. "Is it Hunter?" He guessed knowing that Hetty had sent Callen to check on her.

"Huh?"

"Hunter, you went to check on her yesterday and you're distracted today. What happened?"

"It's not Hunter," Callen lied. It was Hunter. It was the way she'd moved, the way she'd spoken, the way she'd trusted him to take care of her, and the way she'd done a one eighty to make him leave. It was the way they'd been getting along fine and then they were back at each other's throats. It was those damn blue eyes haunting him.

Sam shook his head as he took the exit ramp and flicked on his blinker at a red light. "G, I'm your partner," he said. "Would it kill you to just tell me what's bothering you."

"Nothing is bothering me Sam," Callen said in an annoyed tone that said _'drop it.'_

"Fine," Sam relented though he wasn't happy about it.

::

The little café didn't have cameras, but it had plenty of witnesses which was exactly why it had been the agreed upon meeting place. Hunter walked in wearing black slacks, a white collared blouse and a black blazer that covered her shoulder holster. She looked around and determined that she'd had gotten there first. She did a double take of the patrons, a quick count of heads, who looked dangerous, who didn't, no one stood out as a threat, no one stood out as extra muscle for Harris.

She went to the counter and ordered a cappuccino, her eyes on the reflective surface of one of the coffee machines which allowed her to see the door behind her as she waited. She paid for the cappuccino and checked her watch as she walked to a isolated table and took a seat. She still had five minutes and Harris might decide she wasn't important enough to make into a priority which might just make the wait longer.

Just as she was about to take a sip of her cappuccino her eyes caught on the sharp white suit, tall man wearing it, dark blond hair and deep green eyes. "You have got to be kidding me," she whispered to herself as Andrew Harris came into the café, and took off his sunglasses.

He ordered himself a coffee before coming over with the steaming mug. He sat down across from her and said nothing, he simply looked her over and then smiled just a bit. She took a sip of her cappuccino and he took a sip of his coffee. "So Sugar," he said. "What is it exactly that you need?"

"Eyes," she replied. "Muscle." She looked him over. "So, not you."

He smirked and shook his head before taking another sip of his coffee. "Come on Sugar," he said with a smile as he gestured to his body. "If you don't believe that it's muscle," he leaned in over the table. "I'd be more than happy to prove it to you."

Her face pinched with disgust. "I'll take your word on it."

"Shame," he replied leaning back again. "Could have been fun."

"Apparently Jakob didn't teach you not to mix business with pleasure."

"So you're admitting it could have gotten pleasurable," he said with a smile.

She fought the shudder that his words tried to bring. "Can we get back on topic? I need someone who's good at surveillance, someone who would make a good... bodyguard."

"Anything else?"

"No. Just that one person." It was bad enough she had to ask for this much help. Asking for more... she already felt a horrible sense of foreboding.

"Alright," Andrew responded with a bit of a nod as he took out his phone. "I'll be right back, Sugar."

She glared at him as he took the call outside, and she suspected he was calling Jakob. She was nearly done her cappuccino when Andrew came back inside and sat back down across from her. He took a business card out of his pocket, one of his, same logo as Jakob's. He flipped it over and took out a pen, his writing was quick and rather neat, he slid it over to her. "He's who you want to call. He's already been informed and is at your disposal. Jakob told me to inform you that you now owe him."

She let out a quiet sigh. "I know," she whispered a bit of despair washing over her. If she could nullify the Fairchild threat, it might hold off the Comescu's until she figured out what to do about them... she had to keep her brother safe from the threat. No matter the cost. If that meant she owned a man as despicable as Jakob Harris, so be it. She looked at the name, Logan Cole. She didn't know him, didn't know of him either. "He better be worth it," she said standing and walking away from Andrew with the sudden need for a hot shower with lots and lots of soap. Just being around the sleaze ball made her feel dirty.

::

Deeks held his hands up, as Kensi punched, kicked, kneed or elbowed the pads attached depending on how he held them as they trained. He raised his right hand slightly and she punched the pad, he put it pretty much horizontal to the ground and she gave it a solid knee. He was distracted so when she punched the left pad when he hadn't moved it he had to take a step back from the force.

Kensi snorted. "You good noodle-limbs?"

"Har-har," he said with out humour as he dropped both hands to his sides and nodded his head over to where Sam and Callen were sparing, Callen looking rather vicious and the young duo watched as Callen moved with surprising speed twisting Sam's arm and shooting out his leg at the same time taking Sam to the mat, hard. Deeks cleared his throat, "So uh... is it just me or is Callen angrier than a cat thrown in a bucket of water?"

Kensi smiled at the analogy. "He does seem to be in a bit of a... mood today, doesn't he?" She'd noticed his behaviours when he'd come in, usually in the morning he was in a bantering mood, quick witted, first cup of coffee making him alert. But earlier he'd been quiet, read the paper, didn't pipe in as the rest of them talked. She watched as Callen once again took his partner down. "He doesn't usually spar with such... brute force, it's not his style, and... they're _sparing_, it's his _partner_." Kensi couldn't help but think it looked more like a real physical fight than training. She started to worry when Sam got up again both men circling again. "Before this is up one of them is going to end up getting hurt." She sighed and gave her head a shake. "Maybe I should break it up."

"Is that wise? Sam's huge and you're..." Deeks immediately realized he'd said the wrong thing and tried to backtrack. "Not that you can't take Callen, I have total and complete faith in you," but she was already walking away. "Kensi," he called. "Partner?" He dropped his head back. "Partner!"

::

She didn't have time for a shower, so she kept the window in the car down as she drove, the fresh air keeping her alert and blowing away the memory of Andrew Harris. She made good time and pulled into a quiet and serene park. She stepped out of the car and put the weight firmly on her injured side testing her knee, it ached, sent a shot of pain through her leg but it held. Adjusting her stance to give her leg more time to heal she took a look at her surroundings. An elderly man sitting on the park bench feeding the birds. A set of twin girls were on the swings giggling, their mother not far away. Her biological clock started to tick loudly in her ears. She watched unable to keep the jealousy of such a simple, beautiful moment at bay. What she wouldn't give, wouldn't do for something like that. A man walked over to the woman watching the children and kissed her on the cheek, the woman smiled and turned, leaning into the man's body as they watched the twin girls. A family.

She forced herself to look away, to walk away from it all, to keep moving to a secluded bench that was in the gardened area of the pathway. Beautiful, fragrant, but it didn't bring her the expected peace. Feeling restless and nervous she pulled her phone and the number scrawled out on the back of the business card from her purse. She flipped the card over a few times in her hands thinking about what she was about to do, who she was about to owe. Sitting up a little straighter she dialled the number and pressed the phone to her ear.

"Hello?" The voice was monotonous like this was a call he didn't want to take.

"This is Lauren Hunter."

"Jakob said I should be expecting your call," Logan Cole responded. "What do you want?" He sounded annoyed, his voice gruff in nature and her instincts flagged him with a 'dangerous' tag.

"We need to meet," Hunter replied though the very thought left her feeling cold. "I need you to do a job for me."

"Joy," he said in the same flat tone, he was obviously not amused by the assignment to be her's to boss around. She wondered what he usually did for Jakob. "Where?" She looked around, the park seemed as good a place as any, she told him the address. "And how will I know you?" he asked.

"I'm sitting alone in the garden section," she replied. "Black slacks, black blazer." She shut her eyes tight, Andrew would eat up a comment like that, probably say something like 'already telling me what you're wearing?' she hated herself for leaving herself open for such a comment.

"I'll can get there in thirty minutes, twenty if traffic is light," he said before hanging up abruptly not waiting for end formalities.

"Goodbye to you too," she muttered putting her phone back in her purse.

::

Sam had already left the locker room sporting a bruise on his face that Deeks had smartly ignored, he was, at the core a survivalist and something deep down told Deeks not to say a damn word as the big man exited with an air of rage.

He grabbed his shoes from the cubby and dropped his bag of gym clothing down on the bench before he sat down on it himself. That same survivalist instinct that kept him from saying anything to Sam spiked again as Callen came out of the shower, and dressing stations and grabbed his shoes from a cubby sitting on the bench across from him. Deeks physically bit his tongue to help remind himself to keep quiet, but his eyes went to the Senior Agent-In-Charge. Deeks had studied him earlier when he'd come in for the morning, quiet, brisk, something was bothering the older man.

"What?" Callen barked with out looking up from tying the laces on his shoes.

"What?" Deeks sat at attention with widened eyes. "What nothing? Nothing... what?"

Callen almost smiled. Almost. He glared over at the detective who swallowed nervously. "Deeks."

"You seem pissed."

Callen was floored by the response. He wasn't pissed... okay maybe, but that wasn't why he was floored, he was floored because Deeks was the one to actually call him on it. Sam had just kept sparring and kept his mouth shut. Kensi had tried to break up the sparing by challenging him to the rock wall. And then there was Deeks... Deeks who actually called him on it. "Maybe I am," Callen responded.

Deeks let out a breath. "Want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Gotcha," Deeks nodded, but his incessant need to know overwrote his instinct that told him to shut the heck up. "It's Hunter isn't it?"

"Why does everyone think it's Hunter?" Callen sighed with annoyance his blue eyes narrowing at the detective.

"Because... I've only seen you rattled a few times, and the only time it wasn't directly related to Hunter was when you were informed that Hetty had gone to Romania." Deeks wondered if Callen was waiting for him to hang on the slack he'd been given. "Hetty hasn't resigned again, has she?" Deeks asked worriedly.

"No," Callen responded.

Deeks relaxed a bit. "So what did Hunter to this time?"

There was the million dollar question. What had she done that could explain the kind of rage Callen was feeling? The comments were constructed to take down his ego, his pride but he knew better than to let such comments actually effect him. She was keeping him in the dark about something. She knew something.

_Something. _

_Something. _

_Something. _

It was tormenting him, not knowing what it was or how it related to him, and he knew deep down whatever she was hiding was directly linked to him in some way. He just couldn't figure out what it might be... something on that Comescu laptop? He'd gone over her head on that, Vance personally told him there was nothing related to him on it and Callen trusted the Director, had heard nothing but honesty in his voice. He hated being in the dark, fumbling around blindly trying to turn on a light. Maybe it was time to break out a flashlight so to speak, shine some light on it all.

Maybe it was time to look into Lauren Hunter.

::

From her position in the gardened area she had a good vantage point to see the entire park, all the happy families, the children running from the slide to the swings to the jungle gym. She also had a good visual of the ice cream truck in the corner, and the parking lot where cars came and went. Every new car she'd tense up, but then a woman would get out with a mini-van full of children, or a man would get out and then take out a stroller and unbuckle a two year old from a car seat. She checked her watch, and tapped her foot impatiently, Logan Cole still wasn't 'late' but she didn't like sitting in the same spot for so long. She didn't like just sitting when there was so much to be doing. She needed to find the Fairchild's, eliminate the threat.

She found her hand was trembling and she flattened it against the bench seat. Her thoughts made her sound like an assassin. She wasn't. She could kill when it came down to it, she'd killed Alexa Comescu. She'd killed more in the line of duty... but only when she or someone else had been in danger had she used her weapon. This would be different, she'd be the hunter, she'd be the one in the 'wrong' she'd be a killer, not an agent doing her job, not defending herself or someone else, not in the sense of the law anyways. In the long run killing Quinn, Alistair, and Mikhail would ensure the life of her brother, but... it wasn't the same, it wasn't in the name of the law. It wasn't right. Doubt shrouded her, when the time came, could she kill mercilessly?

Another car entered the parking lot and the doubts vanished, she had other things to currently take precedent in her mind. A man got out, tall she guessed around six foot three. He looked around and she couldn't distinguish eye colour from the distance. His hair was a little lengthy, enough to look dishevelled dark brown in colour, stubble darkened his lower face. He shut the door and she heard it slam from where she was sitting. He walked around the hood of the car dressed in a pair of ripped up and worn out pair of light blue Levi's that hung low on his hips. He wore a grey t-shirt underneath of a checkered shirt comprised of different shades of blue. Logan Cole looked just as dangerous as he had sounded over the phone.

He looked over, finding the garden section and she didn't break eye contact when he looked at her. She feared looking away, as if it would show she was some kind of submissive. She needed to assert her control and dominance right from the get go, even if inside she was nervous, shaking. He was every bit an alpha-male. Everything about him from the way he moved as he walked, his eyes that hadn't looked away since they'd captured hers, even his voice now that she thought about it, everything about him reacted with everything female about her and she hated herself for it. Pushing aside the instantaneous attraction and reminding herself that: A) He's dangerous, B) he works for Jakob Harris, and C) she is no longer some infatuated teenager and is in fact a forty-four year old woman who has enough on her plate without getting love-struck on some dangerous kind of distraction. The thought of her age had her nearly physically wincing, her biological clock ticking loudly, slowly, seconds counting down.

"You Hunter?" He asked. His tone wasn't downright hostile, but it was pretty close. It was obvious he didn't want to be there.

"Depends," she replied. "You Cole?"

He huffed out a sigh as if being there with her was the greatest of inconveniences. Another time or place she might have been offended, frankly she was happy that he had taken an instantaneous dislike to her it would help to keep this... inconvenient estrogen spike... at bay. Seriously. That's all it was. She wasn't seriously attracted to this... caveman. No. She had important things to be doing. He sat down on the bench next to her slouching down in the seat, his arms crossed over his body. "What do you want? Harris tells me to follow your orders, whatever they are," he looked over at her only then, his eyes were such a dark brown that they were nearly black, little flecks of a light honey brown lit up the darkness and she was reminded of a tigers eye stone. She forced her mind back on track and off of his eyes.

"I need you to watch over someone," Hunter responded looking over the sharp plains of Logan Cole's face, strong jaw, slightly gaunt cheeks that made his cheekbones all the more prominent, he looked tired and not in the way that came from not enough sleep. Tired of life was more like it.

"Who?"

She opened her purse and pulled out a day planner. She unclipped the magnetic side of the black leather and flipped to the back where there was a little folder that held odds and ends of scrap paper. She used it for a few receipts and the picture she needed for this meet. She took it out and extended it to Cole. "G Callen."

"G?" He questioned with a slightly raised eyebrow as he took the picture.

"It's all he knows," she responded unable to keep the sadness from her voice. If only she could tell him. The picture was a candid of him walking, he'd been looking over his shoulder and unknowingly directly at the camera when she'd taken it. Crisp blue shirt that only made his blue eyes more prominent. "I need you to keep him safe."

"What does he do?" Cole asked sounding disinterested.

"He's an NCIS agent."

Cole very slowly turned away from the picture and his eyes locked with Hunters. "You want me to follow a _fed_?"

"Yes. He can't know you're following him, and he's good at spotting a tail."

"Christ," he muttered angrily. "A _fed_. You want me to _follow_ a _fed_." His voice got angrier, got lower in tone, got quieter, he sounded more dangerous.

"Yes," she responded simply and with a bit of a haughty attitude trying to gain some kind of control because she felt like she was losing her grip.

He muttered a quiet string of curses. "Who does he need protecting from."

She took a deep breath, obviously neither Jakob or Andrew had warned him about the Fairchild problem. "At least three of the Fairchild family have come into Los Angeles. He needs to be protected from them... discreetly."

He raised an eyebrow and then looked at the picture. "What you in love with him or something?"

She was sure she looked insanely appalled at the thought because he actually smiled, the corners of his eyes wrinkling just a bit, his teeth showing from between barely parted lips. "No," she finally found her voice and a shudder ran down her spine and he laughed. That was a sound that didn't sound dangerous, he had a right from the bottom of your toes, life is great kind of laugh. He licked his lips just a little as he regained control of himself, becoming his more morose self.

"So... who is he to you that you'd go through the lengths of getting in bed with Harris-" she must have looked murderous because he put up a hand. "I didn't mean it _literally_. But he's important to you?"

"He's my brother," she responded quietly.

"Younger or older?"

"Younger, two years," she replied shocking herself that she was telling him these things, he didn't need to know... but maybe she needed to say.

He looked at the picture, to her and then back to the picture. "The eyes," he looked from her to him again. "Maybe the nose, but you two don't look too much alike."

"He took after our father," she replied before biting her bottom lip and releasing it. "I took after our mother."

He nodded. "And the Fairchild's who are they?"

"Harris didn't tell you?" Hunter questioned.

"No," Cole responded.

Hunter sighed heavily, of course they hadn't warned Cole. No one wanted to mess with the Fairchild family. She took a deep breath and studied the flowers. How to explain the Fairchild family, surely he'd ask the why, which would relate back to the Comescu's, and the why, so far back, blood feud. She sat back against the bench and looked straight ahead, how far back to go? How much to explain?

"They're a dangerous family who are after a price that was put on my brother's head by the Comescu family."

"Why?"

"Does it matter?"

"It might," he responded.

"It's a long story."

"I'm all yours," he responded in that low gruff voice of his and she hated how her body reacted to it, gooseflesh on her arms, hairs on the back of her neck sticking up and that undeniable flutter of butterflies in her stomach. She quickly caged the little monsters and took a deep breath, for she had a _very_ long story to tell because it finally felt pertinent to tell it.

::

**Thanks for reading :)**


	12. Chapter Nine

Hunter sighed and decided she'd give him the short version, so many truths wanted to blurt from her mouth. She wanted to finally share the burden of the secrets but she knew better. Still she needed to make sure Logan Cole was prepared and up for the task of protecting her little brother from the Fairchild's. _The reasons behind an action is often just as important as the action itself._ Maybe some fresh eyes wouldn't be such a bad thing.

"The Comescu family gave the Fairchild family start up funds, and are therefore part owners of their multiple criminal enterprises," she said watching his face, gauging his reaction to her words, seeing how deep with Harris he might just be. "They're mercenaries, gun runners, drug smugglers and human traffickers." Cole's jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed, his upper lip pulling up just slightly as if disgusted by one or more of the Fairchild's occupations. "My grandfather... he hunted down war criminals," she bit her bottom lip. "He hunted down members of the Comescu family."

"That's where all this started? Back in your grandfather's generation?" Cole asked rasing an eyebrow. Hunter nodded. "They sure know how to carry a grudge," he said gruffly.

"So do I," she responded, her voice taut.

"So what? Your family kills one of theirs, they kill one of yours?" Cole said with a shake of his head. "Until what?"

"Until one of the family lines are ended I suppose," Hunter responded coldly. "And my family is losing. Badly."

"This is where I come in? Help even the score?" Logan Cole asked his dark brown eyes narrowing at her.

She shook her head slightly. "I just need you to make sure my brother _doesn't_ become one of the casualties of this war. I need you to keep the Fairchild's away from him."

"For how long?"

"Until... until I get them out of Los Angeles I guess," Hunter responded. "Right now there are three. She pulled her phone from her purse and brought up the pictures that the hacker Ambrose Conway had sent with the intelligence. "Finley Fairchild," she showed him the picture. "He's a mercenary, degenerate gambler, he'd do anything for a pay day. I suspect that the price on my brother's head is... extravagant."

"Why your brother?"

Hunter's eyebrows furrowed and she tilted her head just slightly. "What do you mean?"

"Why not put a price on your head?" he asked.

Hunter was quiet for a moment, a breeze blowing her hair slightly, the scent of the flowers spiked in the air and she took a deep breath. "They think I'm already dead. They think he's the last one left."

"And if they see you?"

"They won't know," Hunter insisted. "They think I drowned as a child."

"Your brother thinks you're dead?" Logan asked, his voice had come to life through out the conversation, showing interest, a curious nature that he didn't seem to be able to help.

Hunter slowly nodded. "He hates me," she muttered unable to stop herself.

"So...wait," Logan shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. "He... knows you but thinks you're dead."

"He knows my alias." Hunter sagged in her seat, how long could she hold onto secrets, it seemed like all the lies and truths were waging wars inside of her and she just wanted them out, to pass the burden onto someone else. "I work as and NCIS agent, different branch... usually. We've... crossed paths."

"And he doesn't remember."

"He was young, we both were when we were separated."

"How did that happen?" He asked curiously. Gone between the two was the hostility, the masks they'd both worn. It was Logan and it was Lauren... or was it Amy?

She thought back to a different time, a different place, when she had a different name, knew the love of a mother, and diligently took care of her little brother.

"_Amy! Amy!" he called for her with tears in his bright blue eyes. She had been colouring in the house because she had a tummy bug, while he had gone outside to help their mother pull weeds from the garden. _

"_What is it?" she asked him abandoning the crayons and book to go to her brother, her hands a comforting presence on his shoulders. "What is it little brother?" she asked him softly a hand cupping his face, her thumb wiping his tears. _

"_Momma," he said pointing to the bedroom door as if to lead her outside. "Momma!" _

_Six years had taught Amy much. "Under the bed," she ushered him quickly underneath. "Stay there until me or momma come." She seen him nod and she dropped the blankets down and got to her feet. She moved to the doorway and peeked out. Seeing no one she moved down the hallway, she jumped when the front door opened and her mother was pushed in. _

"_You shouldn't be here!" She shouted at him. _

"_You need to get out of here," the man responded, Amy kept out of sight scarcely breathing for fear of being heard. _

"_Boian." _

"_Clara," he responded gruffly. "You need to take your children. Run. They know where you are. Go." With that the man left just as quickly as he had come. _

_Clara moved quickly pulling off the dirt covered gardening gloves and Amy moved from where she had kept out of sight behind the wall. "Momma? Who was he?" _

_Clara looked down at her daughter. "Where is-" _

Logan snapped his fingers in front of her face. "Hey? Anyone home?"

Hunter sat up straight feeling embarrassed that old memories had claimed her. "Yeah. Sorry. We both made it over to the states, they ended up separating us to different orphanages."

"How did you get here? Why would they separate you two? Don't they usually try to keep siblings together."

Hunter looked over at him, her blue eyes narrowing. Many loaded questions. One person who deserved the answers was the one she kept them from. "They found us at different times, likely didn't clue that we were related." She didn't care that he seemed to want the full story, she filled in what she could, left what she needed blank. Some memories were far to painful. She raised her phone again. "This is Quinn," she said showing him the picture of the woman, and then moved her finger over the touch screen. "This is Alistair. Twins, incredibly protective of one another. I don't know exactly their relation to Finley, but it doesn't seem that they're close to him. Finley, I'm nearly certain, is working alone but it's likely that the twins are working together and will split the profits."

Logan nodded. "How am I to find your brother?"

Hunter took out a piece of paper and quickly jotted an address down. "He'll be around when he finishes work. Life of an agent isn't nine to five, so be there when he is."

"Stake out," he replied gruffly, obviously displeased with his task.

"Pretty much. Just keep him from getting killed until I can find Finley, Quinn and Alistair." She looked over at him and couldn't help her next question. "Why did you decide to work for Harris?"

_If looks could kill_ she thought as he shot her a murderous look. "I don't work for Harris. I owe him. Hopefully this will be enough."

She nodded in understanding, she too knew what it was like to need something from Harris and end up becoming another one of his pawns along the way.

"Please," she said as she stood. "Take care of him. He's all I have."

"He thinks you're dead," Logan responded with a pitying look.

Hunter frowned. "Yeah." It kind of summed up how screwed up her life had gotten. The only person she really cared for thought she was dead, and hated her alias. She shook her head and almost laughed at the absurdity. "Call me if you run into anything," she told him as she walked away.

::

"Callen, I respect your authority," Eric started off nervously shifting in his flip flops. "But Hetty will kill me for doing an unauthorized search of a staff members personnel file."

Callen narrowed his blue eyes dangerously. "Eric. I need that information."

Eric swallowed hard and tried to decide who he was most scared of, Callen's intimidating physical presence, or Hetty. He looked around but didn't see her. "You're going to get me in so much shit, you know that."

"Don't get caught then," Callen argued pushing the wheeled chair into the back of Eric's legs and pushing him toward the computer terminal. "Lauren Hunter."

"I'm a dead man," Eric muttered under his breath taking a quick look around, but since Nell was taking files down to the incinerator they were alone. "Dead man," he muttered again as he typed away accessing the files trying not to leave a mark or get flagged in any way. "Okay, here we go,' he turned the monitor slightly so Callen would be able to see better. Both men scanned the page. The first bit was general, name; Lauren Amelia Hunter, her age, height, hair and eye colour, a picture of her face. They moved into history.

"What the hell?" Callen muttered. "Where is her childhood history, where is everything before the age of twenty one?"

"Give me a minute." Eric's fingers moved over they keys and they were both quiet for a long minute. "Ah," he said in understanding. "She had a name change," he said his fingers flying over they keys. "All the records before the age of twenty one must be under that name."

"What was it before?" Callen asked as the doors to OPS slid open and he stood back up to see Hetty, in the corner of his eye he seen Eric kill all tasks on the computer.

"Hey Hetty," Eric greeted casually.

"Mr Beale," she responded eyeing him and then Callen. "Mr Callen... I need your expense reports for the Brent case."

"Sure thing Hetty," he responded willing her to go but she didn't budge from her spot. She pointed to the door. He took a deep breath. "I'm on it," he muttered moving past her.

::

Hunter was half way back to her apartment when her phone rang. Digging blindly through her purse she flicked on her blinker and pulled into the nearest parking lot. She took up two spaces in her haste but pulled out her phone and put it to her ear. "Yes?"

"_It's Ambrose,"_ the man replied. _"I have a few friends in the downtown core, I told them to keep an eye out for the twins and Finley." _

"They have something?"

"_Someone seen Alistair, they got his license plate number." _

"Can you track it?"

"_Not with out a dozen federal agencies coming in to arrest my ass." _

"Shoot," Hunter whispered, her mind whirling. "Give me the plate... I'll run it."

"_T-S-K-Four-Three-C,"_ Ambrose responded. _"That's tequila, scotch, Kahlua, four, three, champagne." _

Hunter snorted, of course his system was alcohol. "Got it," she replied having scrawled it down on a bit of paper. With that Ambrose hung up on her and she shrugged throwing her phone back in her purse. She let out a breath and put her car back into gear. She'd have to get Eric to help her.

::

Callen looked up from his paperwork when Hunter came in. She walked with purpose and didn't even look at him. Her gait seemed to be back to normal and he wondered if her knee really was feeling better of if she was just really good at faking it. After she disappeared into the OPS centre he followed in her footsteps up the stairs and stood outside of the door careful not to trip the sensors. He wanted to hear, not to be seen.

"I need you to locate the car with this plate number," her voice came out into the hallway, muffled by the walls and door.

"Didn't you put in for vacation hours?" Eric asked. There was a lingering moment of silence. "O-kay," Eric said then and Callen envisioned Hunter's cool glare figuring it had prompted the tech into action. "Telsa, Slayer, Kiss, Four, three, Cactus." It seemed like gibberish at first but Callen quickly realized it was a metal band alphabet, one that Eric and Deeks typically used while relaying license plates. Who was she looking into while she was suppose to be on holidays? "Rented by Mark Quintin."

He heard Hunter scoffed. "Quintin," she muttered.

"You know this guy?"

Hunter was quiet for a long moment. "Can you track the car?"

"Uh, I can put the data into Kaleidoscope, see what she picks up."

Hunter was quiet again. Likely contemplative. "Do it, the second you find him, send his location to my phone."

"Yeah, okay, sure," Eric responded awkwardly tripping over his words, his voice curious and worried. "Why do I get the feeling this is off the books and if Hetty finds out..." his voice tapered to silence.

"Don't get caught then," Hunter responded, mirroring Callen's words earlier in the day. He heard her take a step and then stop. "Thank you," she said with sincerity. "I really need to find this man."

Eric was quiet for a second. "Did he hurt you?"

He heard the shift in Hunter's stance, the little heels on her boots clicking once and then twice debating on if or how to answer. "Thank you Eric," she seemed to decide on ignoring the question and as her heels came closer. Callen hid in a little notch of the building.

She wasn't looking around so she didn't see him. She walked to the stairs and he watched from the railing as she stopped at the bottom and stared into the bullpen, specifically at his desk. She looked around, seeing no one, she approached it.

Curiously he watched her from above. Part of him didn't like the invasion of privacy, but he had very few things in his desk, mostly all work related with the exception of the little book of addresses. Every foster home he'd ever been in. Frankly, he was curious as to why she was going to his desk. Blue eyes were haunting him, the name change, the way she seemed to just... know something, the way she could get his temper flaring in a way no one else could ever manage, like she knew from experience which buttons to press.

He watched her look over his files and quickly go through his drawers while there was a quiet moment in the office, no one else around. In the middle sliding drawer she picked out the book. There was surprise on her face. She opened it and looked at it. Flipped through the pages. She let out a breath. There was something akin to wonder on her face, a smile, her fingers carefully touching the pages as if they might crumble from too much pressure.

It glinted in the light, which is why he seen the tear streak down her face. It was then that she quickly snapped from her revive. She closed the book carefully put it back where she'd found it and shut the door. She wiped her face as she walked around his desk and moved quickly for someone healing from a knee injury down the hall toward the exit.

Callen leaned back against the wall and wondered why she had gone through his desk, why she'd had such a response from the book. Did she know what the addresses mean? What did she know about him? Figuring he needed to find out more he went into OSP and Eric jumped.

"Oh no," Eric muttered. "Just put a bullet in me already," he said dramatically. "Hetty would find some kind of creative way to kill me, frankly I'd just like to be put out of my misery."

"She's not going to kill you Eric," Callen assured casually and adjusting himself into a non threatening pose. "So, what was Hunter looking into?"

"Like you weren't right outside?" Eric said raising an eyebrow.

Callen smiled. "How did you know?"

"Because you were looking into her, it's not like you were going to continue your paperwork, your curiosity was guaranteed to get the better of you."

"It's why you read out the license plate she gave you," Callen said in understanding.

"Mark Quintin doesn't exist," Eric announced. "There is a passport, a California drivers license and that's it."

"So who is he really?" Callen asked knowing Eric was only digging because Callen would have asked him to eventually.

"Working on it," Eric responded.

"And she wants to find him?" Callen said pointing to the picture for the license.

"Yep," Eric responded.

"Call me first when you find him," Callen said.

"You want to get there first?"

"She has information I want," he knew it deep down she _knew_ something. "I need a bargaining chip."

::

"Hunter," she said after hitting the speaker button on her phone while driving.

"Cole," Logan responded. "Your brother just got home."

"He okay?"

"Yeah," Logan responded. "What I was calling about is a car, late model black SUV, it's driven by three times, could be lost but..."

"No, someone is staking the place out," Hunter responded pulling a illegal U-turn and stepping on the gas. "I'll be there in ten."

::

**Thanks for reading!**


	13. Chapter Ten

Due to a couple of traffic lights, she actually took closer to fifteen minutes. Her heart was racing, she knew that in dangerous situations every second counted, and she'd taken extra minutes. She parked behind Logan Cole's vehicle and quickly stepped out, adjusting her blazer over her gun and moved to the passengers side, keeping an ever vigilant eye out. She got in the passengers side. "Status?" she asked wasting no time on pleasantries.

"I've saw the car go around another time, but in the past..." he checked his watch. "Nine minutes, nothing."

She looked to the house her brother lived in. "Lights are still on, they're waiting for him to go to sleep," she guessed. Who though? Who was it in the vehicle? Finley? Quinn? Alistair? Both of the twins? She kept her breathing steady trying to keep her panic under control. "Do you think you were spotted?"

"The windows aren't tinted... I guess it's a possibility," he responded.

They waited in silence, but by four in the morning the car hadn't come back around.

"Maybe someone really was lost," Logan suggested.

Hunter was quiet for a long minute. "No," she whispered. "Stake out, trying to find a pattern... the twins are smart, they'd make a plan. Did you get the license plate?"

"HR3D KB9," he responded from memory. She sighed, not the address she'd gotten from Ambrose. "Going to use your contacts to run it?"

She gave a sharp nod before she rubbed an tired eye with the heel of her palm. "Stay with him until he goes to work."

"I will," he responded before she got out of the car.

She strode back to her vehicle wondering how much longer she could keep going like this. Exhausted she folded her body behind the wheel of the car, shutting the door behind her and put her hands on the wheel letting out an long breath. She started up the engine and drove to a nearby hotel, she wanted to be close... just incase.

::

Callen had the feeling he was being watched. It put a pit in his stomach but he ignored it as he seen Sam's Challenger pull up in front of his house. He grabbed his go bag that was waiting for him by the door along, and locked up behind him. He walked down the pathway and noticed a blue sedan pull away from the curb and drive by. He couldn't see the driver and whoever was driving took the turn quickly so he missed the plates.

"G?" Sam called him from inside the car. "You going to get in?"

Callen opened the door and sat down. Had that been the same car that had been there when he'd driven home the night before?

"Hey, G?" Sam looked worriedly over at his partner. "You good?"

Callen buckled his seatbelt then looked over at his partner. "I feel like I'm being watched."

The words were like a punch in the gut to Sam. His partner had said the same thing right before he'd gotten out of the vehicle, walked a bit down the street only to be gunned down. "Any idea who?" Sam asked forcing the awful memory to discontinue playing in the back of his head.

"No," Callen replied. One thing was certain, he wasn't going home later that night, he'd stay at a hotel, or get one of those 'by the week' kind of apartments. He wasn't going to ignore his gut twice.

::

The alarm she'd set brought her out of her slumber. She groaned and sat up. Her knee seemed much better, but she'd need to take something for the wicked headache she was experiencing. She knew she hadn't been taking very good care of herself, but she knew every second of everyday counted, which was why she only permitted herself five hours of rest.

She stripped off her clothing as she made her way to the bathroom and turned on the shower, the initial cold water shocked her system awake and sent a shiver down her spine. She allowed it to turn to lukewarm, but didn't give into having the nice hot shower she wanted. She moved quickly washing her hair and body, rinsing off turning the water to cold once more energizing her body before she turned off the water.

Shivering, she grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her body. She opened her pack of travel sized items and dumped them over the hotel bathroom's counter. She brushed her teeth, gargled mouthwash and brushed her hair into a ponytail finding an elastic on the counter to tie it off.

She stared at her reflection. Her blue eyes were weary, tired and had that lost look she'd seen in so many others. She put on some mascara and lip gloss hoping it livened her face up a bit. She put on some blush since she was appearing a little pale.

She pulled herself up to full height, tilted her chin upwards just slightly and put on an expression of determination in hopes of convincing herself she was still up for the task. Worry and doubt lingered in the back of her mind but she didn't have time to address such thoughts.

She left the bathroom and finished drying off, dropping the towel to the floor. She grabbed a matching set of deep blue undergarments, no frills, nothing special. She pulled on a white cotton t-shirt and a pair of wide legged grey slacks. "Gun," she muttered to herself pulling it from the drawer beside the bed. She checked the clip out of habit and set it on the bed first putting on her shoulder holster and then firmly putting her weapon inside, the extra clip on the other side balancing the weight. To hide her gun she grabbed a three quarter length grey blazer and pulled it on. She threw everything else into her large purse and pulled it onto her shoulder pausing for a moment.

Sooner or later Hetty would find out that she was using Eric for information, using NCIS technology for her personal gain. Unless she went full disclosure, there wasn't much she could do to get Hetty fully on her side. She and Hetty had worked together close to seven years previous, before Callen had even come to NCIS: OSP. She'd been working for the Bureau of Alcohol, Tabacco, Firearms and explosives, more commonly refereed to as 'The ATF,' and NCIS has an angle they were working, Hetty had come in to oversee the mission, and the NCIS angle, while Hunter was working alone for the DEA's interest. She didn't play well with others.

Hunter had enjoyed Hetty's company. She was kind. Almost motherly. And there was just... something about her. Nagging at the back of Hunter's mind. She still hadn't figured it out.

Hetty must have been impressed, Hunter figured, because the woman pushed for her to join NCIS, knowing how unhappy Hunter was in the ATF. "You could find family there," Hetty had said, but Hunter knew this was _not_ what she had meant.

Hunter had been shocked when she'd gained access to the NCIS database, to find a person with her born surname. Callen, G. Her palms had become sweaty, her heart had raced as she'd clicked on it. OSP: Access denied. She'd been furious and had used that fury to fuel her drive to advance within NCIS until she did have clearance because when she clicked on the name, his picture, though aged, the piercing blue eyes made her certain. No first name listed, her heart clenched. Everyone else at OSP had theirs listed, so it wasn't a precaution. She'd hear whispers about the man who'd become legend, able to slip in and out of an alias, the man who didn't know his first name, that all he had was a letter. The letter G.

She shook her head of memories, of complications. She'd right it all... if she lived long enough. Right now she needed to find the three Fairchild's who were in town and deal with them. "By whatever means necessary," she said trying to sound cold, but instead she found there was a tremor in her voice. _Could she kill in cold blood? _She grabbed her keys and the electronic key for the hotel room and left. "I'll find out soon enough," she whispered to herself.

::

The team was out on a case so when the door opened, Eric figured it was one of the other technicians. "Eric."

He sat up straighter in his seat. "Hunter."

"I need you to keep an eye out for another car."

He turned finally to look at her, he was a little surprised to see nervousness upon her features. She was usually so in control. She looked around the room. "Looking for someone?" he asked. "Or avoiding someone?"

She shot him a glare and put down a scrap piece of paper that had the licence plate number Logan had given her. "Run it."

"Contrary to your belief, I'm not your personal technician," Eric said standing to his full height. Mostly he didn't like confrontations, especially with agents. Still, he was the head of the Technical Department of OSP, running things behind the backs of the government he worked for went against all kinds of morals, and laws. He'd worked hard to get where he was, and while he had risked looking into Hunter for Callen, it was _Callen_, his friend, head of the team he provided support for, and if he had been caught, he was sure Callen would keep him from getting into too much trouble and would tell Hetty it was him. This was Hunter and she was on holidays and frankly, he didn't particularly trust her. He trusted Callen's judgement and intuition about her. "I have a job to do. I have a team who needs information," Eric crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm not running it."

Hunter grinded her teeth together, her blue eyes burning with fury. "Damn it Eric, please. I need you to run this licence plate."

"You're not even an agent for this branch!"

"But I am an agent!" Hunter was frustrated but tried to keep her voice low, not wanting Hetty to know she was there.

"Everything okay here?" Hunter jumped to find little Nell behind her a tablet hugged to her chest, wide hazel eyes taking in the situation.

_Crap._

"Agent Hunter was just leaving," Eric said adjusting his stance slightly.

She glared and grabbed the paper. Hunter drew herself to full height turned on her heel, she sidestepped around Nell and right out of Ops.

"What was that about?" Nell asked taking her seat and looking up at Eric.

Eric shrugged and felt a little guilty. Why did she want him to run the license plate? What if it was something important? All was forgotten when Kensi was saying she'd hooked up to the suspects laptop. He sat back down and got to work.

::

Hunter kicked the wheel on her car in frustration.

It didn't help.

She got into her vehicle and rubbed the heels of her palms against her eyes. "Damn it," she whispered. She was getting close to crying out of frustration, and she hated it the perceived weakness. She quickly went through her phone and found the number for Harris, no longer caring who she owed.

"_This is Andrew."_

_Oh because I thought my day couldn't get worse, she thought bitterly_. "Hunter. I need to know if you have any hackers."

"_Not many, and honestly, none that can probably get you the level of intelligence you need." _

She grit her teeth and sucked in a breath. "Do you know _anyone?_" she was desperate and she knew she was begging.

"_Yeah. I know this guy. He's mostly hired muscle, but his son kind of works for him, the kid's a genius when it comes to computers. I'm not sure what the cost would be though."_

"I don't care, name and number."

"_And what do I get out of all this?" _Andrew Harris asked and she could hear the smile in his voice.

"Come on," she said lowering her voice to something soft and seductive. "Don't you want to help a girl out?"

He was quiet for a minute. _"Yeah, okay," _he said his voice thicker than it had been before, less playful, more serious. _"The guy's name is Robert Williams." Hunter's blood ran cold. "His son is named Nicholas Williams, but everything goes through is dad. Got a pen? I'll give you the number." _

"I've already got it," she whispered and hung up before he could say anything else.

Robert Williams was one man she did not under any circumstances want to owe. And yet, what options did she have? Ambrose either couldn't, or wasn't willing to dig further. Eric was refusing to help her. She had no one else to turn to. Before she could think of the sorry state of her life she grabbed her phone and shuffled through numbers until she found Robert's. Her hand trembled and she slammed her one palm against the steering wheel. She'd rather be frustrated or angry than to feel the fear, the panic, the anxiety that was currently waring within her.

Sucking in a breath she hit the call button and brought the cracked phone to her ear. _"Who's this?" _Robert answered, his voice gruff and annoyed.

For a second, her throat tightened as fear kept her from responding. She shut her eyes blocking the emotions off. "Lauren Hunter," she responded.

"_Never heard of you." _

"Good," she replied honestly. Her hand gripping the wheel so tight her knuckles on that hand were white. "I hear you have a kid who's good at computers."

"_I do."_

"I need him."

"_There is a price for that,"_ his voice lowered and she could hear the wicked smile in it.

"I know," she whispered.

"_I'll set up a meet, tomorrow."_

"No,"Hunter interrupted him. "Now," she demanded. "This is time sensitive."

Robert was quiet for a tense moment. _"Fine. I'll call you back in five with the location." _

"Good." She hung up and let out a breath, her heart hammering away in her chest. There she waited for the longest five minutes of her life with time and silence, neither her friend.

::

**Thanks for reading :)**


	14. Chapter Eleven

Hunter didn't like the scenario. She stood under the pier away from any witnesses that could keep her contact honest. A silencer on a gun, one shot and she was done. She knew better than to agree to such a meet, but... she was desperate.

The wind blew the scent of the sea her way, the gentle caress of the water meeting the shoreline brought her a sense of peace. She wondered how much longer she could keep her brother safe. It seemed like everyday the danger was getting bigger, closer, and deadlier. She sensed rather than heard two people coming, she turned her head and then her entire body to face them. Robert and Nicholas Williams.

Robert was close to six feet tall, stocky build of all muscle, the scar along the side of his face spoke to his years spent as a mercenary. His inky black hair was kept short and greying around the temples. Slightly crooked nose, thin angry lips, and eyes that looked like a well of darkness.

His son, Nicholas, seemed less hardened. Perhaps five seven, but with the same stocky build as his father, but with less definition. Youth still touched his features and she suspected he was between twenty three and twenty five. His eyes were a light green, but the rest of his features looked like much his father.

"Lauren Hunter," Robert looked her up and down, a lewd smile coming across his face, his eyes interested and dark. "It is a... pleasure."

"It is a business arrangement," she said sternly warding off the elder man's advances. She turned to Nicholas. "I require someone of your skills."

"I didn't remember your name," Robert said cutting in. "Nor your voice over the phone. But your face I remember... your body."

They had met in person once before. She'd been lucky enough to only have to deal with him in passing and never before had owed the man. Her fingers itched for her gun but she kept them at her side, she appeared outwardly to be relaxed, at ease with her power in the situation. On the inside she was wondering if from here and with the crashing of the waves, if anyone would be able to hear her scream.

"Nicholas," she said reasserting the situation, looking at the younger Williams.

"What do you need?" he asked curiously as he fished a pack of cigarettes from the back of his board shorts. He tapped one out of the box and put it between his lips before he started to pat down his pockets in search of a lighter. "Want one?" he offered, the white stick bouncing in his lips as he kept it pressed between.

She shook her head. "No, thank you," she responded trying to keep it polite, she was the one wanting a favour from him after all. "I require someone who is willing to look into the Fairchild family."

Nicholas seemed to know who they were because his mouth opened slightly, his cigarette getting caught between his bottom lip and his upper teeth. "Christ," he muttered before finding his golden lighter and flipping the top, lighting it and burning the end of his cigarette. He took a deep inhale and then closed the lighter, letting out a breath of smoke as he pulled the cigarette away between two fingers. "You're not just in trouble needing my help, you're in the middle of a god damned hurricane."

"I'm well aware of my current predicament, thank you," she responded bitterly.

"What you're asking for is dangerous," Robert said gruffly looking over at his son. "You know how dangerous that family is," he lowered his voice grabbing his son's arm. "Let's go."

"Going to let your father boss you around?" Hunter asked seeing how torn Nicholas was, she went straight for his ego. All men had one and she was pretty good at hitting her mark. "Does he make all your decisions for you?"

"I make my own decisions," Nicholas argued glaring at her.

"Look, I need your help."

"It's going to cost you," Nicholas said taking another puff from his cigarette. "A lot."

"How much?"

"One million."

Hunter stared at him blankly and then her lip twitched upward right before she laughed out loud her head tipping back, she held her stomach as the laughter pained her. "Oh, oh my," she gasped. "Really? A million? Yeah, I just have that between the couch cushions," she said sarcastically regaining her composure. "Look, one day you're going to need someone like me. You want me in your debt." She didn't have money! She managed to pay her rent, her car payments, she lived comfortably, but she didn't have the kind of money she needed to play hard ball with such characters. She used favours as currency, and as much as she didn't like it, it was the only card she held in her hand. She was out of options.

"It's the Fairchild's," Robert hissed in reminder to his son.

"I'm a federal agent," Hunter informed Nicholas. "Do you have any idea how often having a fed in your pocket could benefit you?"

She could see it in his eyes, he was thinking about it. There was interest in his eyes as he inhaled deeply, took the cigarette from his lips and blew out a line of smoke. "What do you need? Specifically."

"I need you to run two current rental plates for me," Hunter replied knowing she had him. "Find out anything and everything about Quinn, Alistair and Finley Fairchild."

Nicholas kicked his foot in the sand and looked to his father. Robert was still eyeing Hunter, his eyes slowly running over her body. "We help you," Robert said. "You'll owe us." She knew who was the dominant, and who was the submissive, and she knew that when you dealt with Nicholas, you owed Robert.

She nodded and it felt like she was signing away her soul.

::

Hetty was blind sighted by the call. She hadn't expected it. Not in the least. Hanging the phone up she sat back and thought about what she was going to do about it. She looked over at Callen. He needed to know, and he needed to hear it from her. She stood, pulling herself to full height she walked to the edge of her office. "Mr Callen," she called and he looked over his shoulder. With one finger she beckoned him. "A word."

"Someone's in trouble," Deeks said with glee and Callen took the time to shoot the detective a glare before he got up.

Callen approached slowly, something had been off in every aspect of his life for the past few days, something was going on around him, something he couldn't see. It was bothering him, making him paranoid... well, more paranoid than usual.

He put his hands on the arms of the chair and lowered himself into it, his eyes staying on Hetty trying to get a read on her. There was something there, just below the surface, grief. He tried not to think the worse, but he wondered how the other teams were doing, had someone been taken? Killed?

"What is it, Hetty?" He asked unable to take the suspense she was keeping him suspended in.

She took in a deep breath and let it out in a huff. "Oh, Mr Callen..." she said shaking her head. "I don't know how to tell you this."

"How about you just tell me," Callen said. "Straight, simple, I'll deal with it."

"Amy Taylor is dead."

Callen's jaw dropped. Amy Taylor, maiden name Amy Callen, real name Hannah Lawson. She had told him about his sister who drown at age eleven, his own sister who was buried with Hannah Lawson's name. To protect herself, she had taken on Amy's name and the orphanage hadn't known the difference.

"How," he managed to get out despite how his throat felt like it was closing.

"Murdered," Hetty admitted softly. "Two gunshot wounds to the back of her head."

He shook his head trying to clear his thoughts. It didn't make sense. Why murder Amy Taylor? He slowly looked up. "Why?"

Hetty frowned. "I don't know," she admitted. "LAPD informed me due to the fact we had flagged her information when we'd been working the case searching for her."

"Two shots to the back of the head, that's a pro Hetty."

"I know."

Callen found his knuckles were white from the grip he had on the chair. "I need to find out who did this to her."

"Mr Callen," Hetty said. "I can't get you the case. There is no NCIS angle, especially not for this office."

"Than put in my sick days," he responded standing.

"Mr Callen," she whispered.

"I have to do this, Hetty," he responded softly. "Please, understand."

::

Ambrose called her. As she answered he hoped for good news. "This is Hunter."

"How sure are you that the Comescu's think you're dead?" he asked and her blood ran cold.

"Sure. I lived with them as Ilena, their niece, they didn't know the difference," she responded. She was positive that the Comescu's thought she was dead.

"Maybe the Fairchild's know different, or found a discrepancy while searching for your brother... or maybe this is just completely unrelated... but..." he trailed off.

"What is it?" She snapped.

"Amy Taylor, formerly Amy Callen was murdered this morning." Ambrose followed it up with the woman's home address where she'd been killed.

"Oh my God," she whispered dropping her head to the steering wheel of the car she was in.

"Yeah, shot twice in the back of the head."

She cursed and then looked at her phone. "I have another call."

"Well that's all I have anyways," and with that Ambrose hung up.

Hunter switched to the second call. "This is Hunter."

"Nick," Nicholas responded. "Both of those license plates you asked me to look up, they're both registered to a Mark Quintin."

Both, so the twins could be switching cars all the time, she could never be sure who was driving which. She sat back in the chair. "Alright," she responded evenly. "Do you have anything else for me?"

"Yeah, the car with the license plate HR3D KB9, I found it on some cameras," he said. "I lost it, but it was parked for a while this morning." He gave her the neighbourhood and her hands tightened on the wheel. It was where Amy Taylor had lived, and died. One of the twins were responsible.

"Damn it," she whispered as tears welled in her eyes. "That everything?"

"Yeah, like I said, I lost it again."

She hung up and threw the phone aside. The real Hannah Lawson died because she had taken on a name more dangerous than her own. She'd taken the name Amy Callen, and it had killed her.

::

Callen wasn't sure if the LAPD would let him through, he had no jurisdiction, no NCIS angle to play. He spotted a familiar cop and got out. "Burnhart," he called.

The man turned and flashed a grin. "Callen."

"Can you get me in?"

Burnhart studied him. "There isn't any military angle. Woman murdered. LAPD."

"I'm not trying to take jurisdiction," Callen replied through gritted teeth.

"Ah, personal," Burnhart responded with a sigh. He looked around and then lifted the tape. "Mind your protocols, I don't need to be getting in trouble for this."

"Thanks," Callen replied as he moved quickly across the small yard an into the tastefully decorated home.

Blood and death. It hung like a cloud. The body had been taken but there was a blood pool that made him feel sick to his stomach. Two shots.

There was a picture of her with her husband hanging on the fridge, they both looked happy. They should have got to stay happy. With a heavy heart he left. He hadn't known what he had intended on finding but whatever it was, it wasn't there. He gave a nod to Burnhart on his way out, and received on in return before the man returned to his conversation with a traffic cop.

He got back into his car. There were so many bodies that lay in the wake of his life; his mothers, a sister whom he can't remember, Alina Rostoff, and now the real Hannah Lawson.

::

Callen found himself at an Irish Pub with his team. They'd done their rounds of 'sorry,' and 'how are you doing,' and most importantly, 'what are you going to do about it?' He didn't have the answer and he took another shot of whiskey.

"So you took off, in the middle of the day and did your lone wolf thing," Sam muttered before taking a swallow of his beer.

"Yep," Callen replied. "And I got nothing out of it. LAPD has nothing. Whoever did it was a pro. It looks like a hit. Someone killed her because her maiden name was Callen."

The three others were silent for a moment. "You really believe that, G?" Sam asked softly.

A memory stirred inside of him. The real Hannah Lawson's voice coming from the depths of his mind. _'She loved you so much, you know, she cried herself to sleep every night cause she couldn't be with you.'_ That woman had reminded him of a sister he never knew he had, told him of her love for him, her baby brother. Hannah Lawson was a good woman, she didn't deserve to go out the way she had.

"Yeah," Callen responded. "She didn't have enemies." He'd taken care of the men that had chased them through the orphanage. She should have been safe. "My name has a blood-feud attached to it."

"That means whoever took her out, could also be in town for you," Kensi said a low burn of anger in her voice.

Callen's teeth grinded together before he took another shot of whiskey, it burned on it's way down and did nothing to slow his mind.

Deeks grabbed the shot glass from his hand, turned it upside down and put it over the bottle before taking it away and holding it in his hands. "I think that's enough." Looking at the detective, Callen sent a glare that would make lesser men cower. "Drinking yourself into the ditch isn't going to help you find who killed Hannah Lawson," Deeks said sharply his eyes meeting the glare refusing to back down knowing if he did it could cost their team leader.

Callen let out a huff of breath and sat back in his seat crossing his arms over his chest.

"You did say you felt like someone was watching you, G," Sam said quietly.

"I'll stay at a hotel," Callen said.

"You can stay with me," Deeks said and continued when Callen raised his eyebrow. "I have a dog, who despite what you might think was a police dog, he hears better than I do, and barks anytime anything or anyone comes around the house."

"I'll be fine on my own."

"Well, excuse me if I don't like the thought of you in your intoxicated state being alone in a hotel room," Deeks said sarcastically as his eyes went to the bottle. He knew by where the amber liquid sat under the black label exactly how many shots Callen had taken and just what it would do to the mans coordination and reaction times.

"Why?" Callen asked, his tone more than his pronunciation giving away his state. "So you can end up dead too." Sam rubbed his temples and eyed the whiskey. Callen was a mean whiskey drunk.

"So you can stay alive," Deeks argued passionately hinting to his days as a lawyer. "Come on, man, can't you see that we all just want the best for you."

"At what cost? She didn't deserve to die."

Deeks sighed. "No. She didn't. But neither do you."

Callen muttered under his breath and no one could hear him, no one was even sure what language it was he was muttering in.

"Callen," Deeks said gaining the drunk man's attention. "Come on," he nodded his head toward the door. "Lets get you sobered up. Then we can find who did this." He wanted to give Callen something to focus on, rather than the fact that the gypsy blood-feud had once again reared it's ugly head.

Callen got his feet under him, but Deeks half dragged him to the door, Sam and Kensi trailing behind. Deeks got Callen into his car and shut the door before turning to the other two. "I've never seen him like this," Deeks said a little worriedly. "He's going to bounce back, right?"

Kensi shrugged, she didn't often see Callen drink, and when he did, he did so in moderation. She looked to Sam.

Sam adjusted his stance as if uncomfortable in his own skin. "Watch for his left hook, we all know he has a good right, but the left one can occasionally catch you by surprise... he... he's kind of a mean whiskey drunk," he admitted.

Deeks cursed and then shrugged and put on a carefree smile. "I've had plenty of practice dodging drunken swings, I'll call you guys if I need anything."

"I'm going to head back to the office, see if I can't get Eric to find out anything about... anything," Sam said. "Got to cover our basis right. If this was a hit because she took on Amy Callen's name, G could be in serious danger."

"I'll go with you," Kensi said. "If we get any leads we can run them until Callen sobers up enough to participate again." She looked through the window to see that Callen was actually sleeping. "Good luck Deeks."

Deeks looked back and shrugged. "He's short, what's the worst he can do?" He said jokingly despite knowing just how devastating the Senior Agent in Charge could be with his hand-to-hand combat. On a sigh he rounded the front of his car and got in.

::

**NOTE: The next update is going to be pushed a week, I'm busy next Sunday and I won't have the extra time to write the chapter so... next scheduled update will be 09/02/12, I apologize for the delay!**

**Thanks for reading!**


	15. Chapter Twelve

**I apologise profusely for the lateness of this chapter! Gosh, I'm so sorry, it's been forever! September destroys me (check my profile for the memo on late/skipped updates/ the week I'll be gone.) I hope my schedule gets back to normal in October. Again, I'm sorry!**

**:: **

"_He hasn't returned to his house."_

Hunter sighed listening to Logan Cole's voice. "Crap," she muttered. "He might still be working a case." Honestly, she had no idea what was going on, where he was.

"_It's four in the morning." _

"Then he's probably not returning, working through the night." She wondered if he was... or if he had been taken or... no... G Callen goes missing all of NCIS OSP would be looking for him, she'd have heard... he was just... not at home. She worried as she chewed on her lower lip for a second. "Thanks Logan. Just... get some sleep. I'll call you when I figure out where the heck he is."

"_Um... are you..."_ he seemed to be debating his words. _"You okay?" _

She was quiet, shocked a bit by being asked. "Yeah." She wasn't sure if it was the truth, but she wasn't going to say 'no, I'm clearly not fine, there is a price on my little brother's head.' "I'm fine."

Logan Cole was a mystery to her, she employed him through Jakob Harris but beyond figuring that he owned Harris as she did, she knew nothing of him. Her first impression of him had been intimidating, but quickly the initial harsh tones and mannerisms gave way to the intelligence in his eyes, the compassion that was quickly covered and a curiosity that left her uneasy. Curiosity lead to questions, and she never could answer truthfully.

"_Okay, I'll talk to you tomorrow... or later today I guess."_

"Yeah, g'night... or good morning, whatever."

He chuckled. _"Bye." _

She hung up and tossed her phone aside. She knew that she should get some rest, get herself into fighting form but knowing that her brother was out there, somewhere, and she didn't have eyes on him... Besides there was this prickling feeling at the back of her neck, that gut instinct of being watched. She knew it was ridiculous, she was in the hotel room, all of the blinds had been drawn. _You're being paranoid,_ she told herself.

::

"_She loved you so much, you know. She cried herself to sleep every night cause she couldn't be with you." _

"_What did she call me?" _

"_Baby brother." _

"_No, I... I mean-" _

"_Just baby brother."_

Callen woke from the dream of his last moments with the real Hannah Lawson at two in the morning in unfamiliar surroundings. There were lights on and he was on the couch, a soft blanket thrown over him. He looked to his feet, his shoes were gone. He habitually slept on his back, but he was on his side. He rubbed the bridge of his nose feeling the hangover at the back of his mind. He didn't feel like he was in a threatening scenario, bad guys didn't usually tuck you in.

Still... it definitely wasn't Sam's place. If he'd been drinking whiskey (which from how crappy he was feeling and the lack of memory he deduced that he had been) Sam would have left him at a hotel- never taking his cranky whisky drinking ass home to his family. It wasn't Kensi's place, it was far to clean, overtly organized. He looked to the bookshelf and noted that the books were in alphabetical order. Nell? God he hoped not. He was a terrible whisky drunk. Beer drunk, he was fine. Tequila drunk, he was fine. Whiskey was not his friend. Still, he wondered if it was Nell's home he was in, she was pretty OCD- upon a look to the movie shelf he noted that it also was alphabetized, a mix of documentaries, comedies, and old westerns.

Sitting up the world felt like it was tilted slightly. Water. He needed water. He set out in search of the kitchen and found Deeks at a table hunched over a book, dark rimmed glasses perched on his nose, no shirt on and his jeans had been switched for a pair of navy blue drawstring pants. Deeks's eyes flicked upwards and he took off the glasses it was then that Callen noticed the slight bruising on Deeks's right cheekbone. "I do that?" Callen pointed to the bruise.

Deeks shot Callen a grin. "Didn't expect you to have such a good left."

"Sorry."

Deeks waved it off and looked around finding a coupon for fifty cents off laundry detergent and used it as a book mark shutting the heavy tome. Callen looked to the cover, it was a law book. "Good read?"

"Usually puts me to sleep," Deeks said with a shrug.

"You seemed pretty into it."

Deeks glared, his seemingly endless patience snapping. "You punched me in the face. It's two in the morning. Shut up."

Obviously whatever Deeks was into he didn't want to discuss and Callen dropped it. He switched from curious to grateful. "Thanks... I know I'm not the best of company when I've been drinking."

"You're never the _best_ of company," Deeks shot him a filthy grin and Callen couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"Coffee?"

"It's two in the morning." Deeks raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. Even he didn't drink coffee at two in the morning- he'd never sleep.

"So?"

Deeks simply pointed to the coffee maker on the counter. "It's prepped for morning, just turn it on." He felt the need to fill the silence, Deeks was uncomfortable with people and silence. Silence on his own was fine, he didn't feel the need to play music or have the television on in the background, when he was home, he was fine with the quiet. It was when he was around others that he felt the need to keep conversation flowing- and off himself. With it being Callen though- he wasn't sure what to say.

"You don't use glasses when you're doing paperwork." It was an offhanded comment. Callen flipped on the coffee maker and heard it start bubbling to life.

"And give Kensi that kind of ammo? No thanks. I'd prefer not being called four-eyes. Besides... I can mostly make out what it says."

Callen shook his head. "That explains a lot of files that Hetty ends up handing back to you."

"Maybe I should ask her for large print." Deeks doesn't seriously consider it, he knows that Hetty knows but neither says anything about it- it doesn't affect his job, he can see distances just fine, it's just reading the tiny little words right in front of his nose he seems to have trouble with. "So, Irish Pub," Deeks said trying to move the conversation off himself. "Nice little place."

"It's a hole."

Deeks shrugs. "I've seen worse."

Callen takes a look at the detective and doesn't doubt it. He wants to keep the conversation on Deeks and off himself, but he gets the sense that Deeks is doing the same thing. Considering the fact that Deeks went out on a limb for him, he moves the topic to neutral ground. "Want a coffee?"

Deeks shrugged. Figuring with Callen now awake (and if he gives any credit to how noisy a house guest he is said to be) Deeks burries the thought of getting any sleep. "Yeah, sure."

With two steaming cups of coffee on the table, Deeks doctors it with soy milk and two sugars, Callen throws in a single sugar and stirs it endlessly. Neither knew what to say, and for a while, both stayed silent.

::

Two in the morning is a miserable time of night. Hunter hates it. It's when all the worst of the worst come out of their filthy little shells and wreak havoc under the dark shadows of the night. Maybe she should have known. Maybe her gut had been warning her. Maybe...

She's staying in a hole of a hotel, had to use her credit card since she was nearly completely out of funds. She felt like her entire life was spiralling down, wildly and completely out of her control.

Her bank account held a precious ninety seven dollars and sixteen cents.

Her three credit cards were nearly maxed out.

Things were quickly getting dire financially, and just as bad in nearly every aspect of her life. Part of her wanted to break into the mini fridge and drink herself numb but she couldn't risk it. The potential danger of having herself so prone was too much for her trained mind- she couldn't allow it, not even for a night.

She needed to find the three stateside members of the Fairchild family. And fast. They'd strike soon, and she needed to strike first. Before her brother became the latest in the list of casualties. She didn't like to think about what would happen if he did die. What would become of her? Since she had been a small child she'd only had one job. _Protect him_. How much longer could she though? The Comescu family was down in numbers these days but still strong, and with allies like the Fairchild family...

So long as the Comescu's still had even one man left standing, her brother was in danger. She'd have to think of a way to deal with that later, currently her mind needed to be focussed on Quinn, Alistair and Finley.

The knock on the door has her checking her shoulder holster for her gun. She adjusts her blazer and walks to the window and peeks out. "Crap," she whispers spotting Robert.

"Open up _Lauren_."

She weighed her options quickly and figured that he'd throw a fit if she didn't. Besides, she needed him... well she needed Nicholas to keep hacking for her. She opened the door. "Robert."

He smiled. "Going to invite me in?"

"It's two in the morning." Hunter felt her teeth grinding together. He took a step forward and she had little choice but to take a step back. He shut the door behind himself and Hunter crossed her arms over her chest. "What do you want, Robert?"

"Well... Amy..." Hunter stiffened under the use of her real name. "How much is it worth to you..." he reached around her head and pulled her elastic from her low pony tail, her dark hair becoming loose and framing the sharp angles of her face. "To keep that little secret?"

::

Henrietta Lange felt the winds of change and they were keeping her awake past two in the morning despite her calming nighttime tea.

There were things going on under the surface, something was coming and she wasn't sure what- if anything she could do about it. With the instinct that had kept her alive this long giving warnings she wasn't so surprised when the odd number came up on her phone. A prepaid she assumed. She took a deep breath before answering. "Yes?"

"_Hetta. Your boy is in trouble." _

She recognized the voice, and yet she couldn't believe it. "Boian?"

"_Secure him." _

The line went dead.

There were so many questions she had wanted to ask, and yet from the briefness knew that Boian was in a stressful situation himself. She knew exactly which of her 'boy's' as Boian had put it, the man was talking about. She set the house phone down and pulled out her cell phone, shifting through the contacts.

"_Callen."_ The man answered sounding fully awake if not a little cranky.

"Are you at home?" Hetty worried that whatever danger was waiting for him could already be staking out his house.

"_No."_

"With Sam?" The very thought put a pit in Hetty's stomach, if Sam's family got involved...

"_No." _

"Mr Callen-" Hetty's voice tight with her frustration.

"_I'm with Deeks... what is going on Hetty?" _There was an edge of worry that had wormed its way into his voice.

"Go... go to the office." Hetty decided that it would be the safest place for him. "Immediately. Bring Mr Deeks with you."

"_Hetty?" _

"Immediately, Mr Callen!"

"_Deeks we got to go," _she heard him tell the detective. _"We're on our way there now." _

"I will meet you there." Hetty hung up the phone and pulled a six shooter from her drawer. She got the sense that whatever it was that had been lingering under the surface, that thing she couldn't identify, couldn't name... she couldn't help shake the feeling that it was _war. _

::

**Thank you for reading :) **


	16. Chapter Thirteen

**Sorry that this is a day late! It appears that I've caught the first round flu bug :( **

::

Callen and Deeks walked in side by side. Callen was still in the jeans he'd worn the day before, but the detective had loaned him a new black t-shirt that was a little too long. Deeks looked a little better off in a fresh pair of jeans, white t-shirt and a grey zip up hoodie covering his arms from the early morning cold, the bruise on his face had darkened over time and was a deep shade of purple.

"Hetty?" Callen called out. The office only had a skeleton crew, cases that were being worked through the night, maintenance workers, filing technicians. "Hetty?" He called out again as they moved toward her office.

"We might have beaten her here," Deeks suggested dropping onto the bench in Hetty's office, his head was aching slightly and there was a sluggishness that came from lack of sleep.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs had both men turning to see Hetty. In her hand, a single plain manilla folder.

Hetty came to stand before Callen, her eyes hardened around the edges but there was lingering sadness and he couldn't figure out what it all meant. "What's the emergency?" he asked lightly.

"Take a seat Mr Callen, I've called in Sam and Kensi... they should be here momentarily."

Callen slowly sunk into the nearest chair, he turned to look over his shoulder to catch the curious gaze Deeks was too tired to hide.

::

Hunter stared back at Robert, contacts out for the night so he got the full use of her icy blue glare. Her lips pressed into a thin, angry line she did her best to see her way out of this mess, a mess of her own creation. She knew that making a deal with Robert Williams was like making a deal with the devil.

"Is that a threat?" She stalled for time, her eyes casually gazing around the room, taking stock. The weight of her gun still in her shoulder holster gave her some measure of security. The two bedside lamps looked weighty, ceramic- if she had to guess. The chairs looked to weighty, to slow to be a viable weapon. She slowly returned her gaze back to Williams.

"I suspect that you use the name Lauren Hunter for a reason..." he stepped closer and she could smell alcohol on his person. "Lets face it... if the Comescu family find out that you- Amy Callen is still alive," Robert smiled and Hunter fought the urge to shudder. "Well... we both know what happened to the woman, foolish enough, to take your name."

Hunter stiffened. Hannah Lawson had been a childhood friend, her loss would be mourned. "What do you want?" She was afraid to hear the answer.

"You've already said you don't have any money to give..." Robert looked around the sparse hotel room. "And my son double checked that, you owe more to credit cards than what you have in the bank."

"Did you come here at two in the morning to discuss my financial situation?" Hunter snapped moodily, though after she figured it probably would have been best to just keep her mouth shut.

"No," he replied sitting down on the bed and patting the spot beside it. "I came for you to pay up," he lewdly raked his eyes over her, head to toe.

"Not happening!" Hunter crossed her arms over her chest and her fingers skimmed along the cool metal of her gun under her blazer. "I owe your son."

"When you owe my son, you owe me... _Amy_."

"Like I said," she replied. "Not happening." She started to walk to the door, in mind to tell him to get the hell out, it took about three seconds for the hairs on the back of her neck to stand up. _Never leave your back open!_

But it was too late.

::

Kensi had her hair pulled up in a pony tail but it wasn't smooth or chic, it was a mess, no make-up, not that the natural beauty needed it, she had some dark circles under her eyes from the lack of sleep. She'd apparently pulled on whatever she had saw first, considering the shirt she was wearing was actually part of a sleep-set, she wore it with the jeans from the previous day. "What is going on?" she asked looking to Hetty, then to Callen and finally her eyes landed on her partner. "What happened to your face?"

Deeks just nodded in Callen's direction, too tired to bother telling the story or adding his usual embellishments.

Kensi seemed to understand, she placed a hand on Callen's shoulder. "You okay?"

"Is he okay?" Deeks asked shaking his head just slightly. "I'm the one who got punched in the face."

Callen just patted Kensi's hand and she knew that was the best answer she was going to get. She turned to Hetty. "What is going on?"

Hetty just turned in time to see Sam come from the hallway, Nell and Eric not far behind. Sam seemed to be doing a tally, everyone was there, in one piece. "What's going on?"

"Everyone take a seat." Hetty sounded, and even looked weary. Nell sat down beside Deeks, crammed in the middle when Eric sat next to her, Sam took the other chair and Kensi sat on the arm of Callen's.

"Hetty," Callen prompted.

"I received a call this morning..."

::

She saw stars.

What?

She blinked a few times, tried to clear her vision of the spots, tried to get her mind to catch up.

Her gun. Her gun was gone... how had she been disarmed?

She was cold... arms bare... she couldn't remember taking her blazer off.

Her neck ached, stung. _Taser. _

Her mind started to process again. Hot breath on her neck, hands on her hips, the weight of a body. Her eyes focussed and she put her own self-loathing on the back burner, she could get angry at herself for leaving herself open later. Now it was about survival. She wanted to throw a punch, which was when she realized her own service handcuffs were tightly around her own wrists a heavy hand holding the chain pinning her to the ground.

_You loose control of your emotions, and the enemy has the upper hand. _The words floated in the back of her mind and she took a second, tried to ignore the feel of Robert's lips on her neck that were the direct cause of the nausea she was experiencing.

_Gun. _

_Phone. _

Her eye cast around the room. Her phone was on the bed. Her gun across the room on the table by the window.

A rough, calloused hand ran up her thighs and it was only then that she realized it wasn't only her blazer that was gone. The rational side left her. She screamed.

::

"It was from an old friend," Hetty explained. "Boian." She let out a shaky breath and looked at Callen. "I am sorry, Mr Callen."

Callen eyebrows drew down in confusion. "Hetty?"

"Boian... he worked... for your family..." Hetty took a deep breath, so many secrets, so many lies. It was time he knew the truth, or a least all of it that she knew... the war had come to America. The lies she'd told, the secrets she'd kept was to keep him from going out in search of the war. It no longer seemed to matter, at this point, his ignorance would no longer keep him safe. "The Piascovschi family has worked with the Callen's since your grandfather was hunting war criminals."

Kensi could feel how tense Callen had gotten, her hand went to his shoulder, reminding him that his team was all there for him.

::

"In a place like this, no one is going to call the cops, no one is going to care if you scream," Robert taunted.

Hunter knew fear. She'd lived with it as her constant companion for most of her life. She learned how to use it, push it down, instil it in others, ignore it completely. Her skin felt clammy with it, her heart raced with it, it chorused through her entire body and she felt like a scared little girl again with no control over her life.

She kicked uselessly, her legs on either side of his form and could do no decent damage. _Keep your head together, remember your training! _She paused momentarily as the thought repeated on a calming loop.

Breathe, she reminded herself, breathe.

His hands ran over her sides, under her t-shirt.

Get to the phone! Call... who could she call? He moved off of her slightly, on his knees, his hand leaving the chain between her cuffed hands as he went to undo his belt. She swiftly rocked back pulling up her legs and pressing them together, her feet both slamming back down on his chest knocking him back. She rolled to the side and got to her knees and grabbed the phone.

She called the first number in the list. Cole.

"Logan!" she cried out when he answered.

"_Lauren? Lauren? Are you okay?"_

She was jerked back by her hair and knocked back to the floor with a punch to the face.

"_Lauren!" _

Hunter quickly rattled off the address of the hotel and room number all while she was kicking wildly and throwing elbows at Robert trying to keep from once again being pinned.

"_I'm on my way, Lauren. Stay on the li-" _

Robert had thrown her phone across the room and it cracked, made a peculiar sound and the glow of the screen went dark. She didn't know where Logan Cole was, how long it would take him to get there. For now, she knew, she was on her own.

She kicked her heel into Robert's shin and shot and elbow up knocking him into the dresser. She made a break for her gun but was tackled down face first onto the bed.

::

"Worked for?" Callen asked confused.

Hetty nodded. "Abel Piascovschi worked along side George Callen. Your grandfather saved Abel's life and that instilled an incredible amount of loyalty between the two families." Hetty folded her hands before her.

Callen could feel rage and betrayal brewing inside. Hetty had been keeping things from him. _Again. _"Why didn't you tell me all of this before?"

"I was trying to keep you safe, Mr Callen," Hetty sighed. "I thought the less you knew, the less likely you'd be to go looking for trouble."

Callen shook his head. "I think I'm old enough to decide for myself."

Hetty nodded sadly. "Yes. Perhaps you're right." For so long, so very long she had tried to keep him safe. "Blood was lost... on all sides. The Comescu's... the Fairchild family that worked with them on many occasions, the Piascovschi family lost many and was nearly completely decimated after a bomb was placed inside of a family compound during one Christmas morning. Men, women... children... infants."

"My God," Kensi whispered shaking her head.

"That's terrible," Nell added.

"There were a few that hadn't been in the compound. Boian and his family had been with his brother and his family in Ireland for the holidays." Hetty sighed. "Boian returned to Romania when he was contacted by Clara. They'd been childhood friends, thought the war that took place during their adolescence had torn them apart. Boian wanted his distance from the Callen family- a family Clara had married into. He had distanced himself from the Callen's when he married his Nicoleta... he wanted desperately to keep the war from harming her, or their children."

"What does this have to do with me?" Callen interrupted.

"The war has flared back up. Boian called me, wanted me to get you somewhere safe, he must believe that the war has found it's way here, to Los Angeles, and that you are _the target_." Hetty sighed, feeling every year of her age.

"He called you... because he knew that you knew me?"

Hetty sighed sadly. "Yes. I've been in contact with Nicoleta for years, she's... she's always kept eyes on you."

Callen was having a hard time dealing with the latest information. Hetty had been keeping so much from him, he wasn't sure how he was to trust her. "And you trust this man?"

"Yes. He is the one who brought you and Amy over from Romania."

Sam looked over at his partner, the shock written clearly on the typically closed off face.

Callen opened and shut his mouth a few times and then just stands and walked a few steps. He turned, looked back at Hetty. "What else have you kept from me? Lied to me about?"

There was anger in the man's voice, and Hetty understood it, it didn't stop it from hurting her as much as it hurt him to find out that he'd once again been lied to, had things kept from him. "I knew of Boian through Clara, he'd informed me of her... death." Hetty sighed. "He'd separated you two, put you into separate orphanages in order to lessen the chances of you two being found by any of the Comescu family."

"Separated me from the only family I had left."

"It kept you both alive!"

"For a while!" Callen shook his head. "Amy is dead. Hannah Lawson is dead because she took her name."

There was a tense silence that fell upon the group, after a moment it was broken by Hetty's cell phone ringing.

She recognized the prepaid number from before. "Boian?"

"_Hetta. Is the boy secure?"_

"Yes. He's with me."

Callen's eyes narrowed.

"_Where can we meet?" _

Hetty was silent for a moment before giving Boian the secure location of the boatshed.

"_I can be there in thirty." _

And then the line was dead.

"What else do you need to tell me before he gets here?" Callen's voice was tight with barely controlled anger.

::

She'd gotten her hands on the lamp and she wasn't even sure how, it wasn't finesse that was for sure, it wasn't training, it was sheer instinct and the will to survive that had, had her kicking, screaming, inching her way to the nearest weapon. She'd swung it with all her strength, the ceramic had shattered on Robert's skull and he'd toppled off the side of the bed, hitting the floor with a thud.

She rolled from the bed finally getting her legs back under herself. She stumbled and ran her hip into the table in an uncharacteristic show of gracelessness. Her fingers fumbled in the cuffs as they grabbed hold of the cool, familiar, comforting weight of her gun.

Whirling around her gun pointed at Robert who was slowly getting back to his feet. He looked at her, more specifically, his eyes went directly to her gun. "No," he whispered and then finally looked past the gun, looked into her eyes. "Please. No. Please, I'll leave, I'll leave."

In that moment, as she grabbed a pillow and the man's eyes widened in realization, she discovered she could shoot an unarmed man in cold blood.

::

The group had made their way to the boatshed to wait for Boian Piascovschi. It had been done in a contemplative silence. There was tension in the air. Anger that sizzled and crackled dangerously in warning.

Hetty sat first at the table and slowly everyone took a seat around it. She knew she had to purge what she knew, give him all the answers she had if she had any hopes in retaining the man's loyalty. "I'm afraid I know little after that," she admitted looking to Callen with the knowledge that he wouldn't believe her, not this time. "Boian relocated his family here, he and his wife kept eyes on both you and Amy for as long as they could. Perhaps Boian will be able to fill in more."

There were three booming knocks and everyone turned but it was Hetty who got to her feet, since she was the one who knew the man, and walked purposefully to the door.

::

**Thanks for reading :)**


	17. Chapter Fourteen

**Being that I'm still sick, I probably shouldn't be writing chapters with background and... stuff... my mind is definitely not working full speed, if there is anything wonky, let me know!**

::

"Boian," Hetty stepped back allowing the tall man to step inside. He was in his early sixties, his grey hair cut short, sharp nose, intelligent green eyes, thin mouth, he dressed in blue jeans and a black long sleeved cotton shirt, in shape for his age, or any age for that matter. A fighter, one of skill if his stature was any indication.

Boian looked directly at Callen. "You have your father's eyes."

Callen swallowed hard, it was information he wasn't entirely sure what to do with.

"How is Nicoleta?" Hetty asked.

"Well," Boian responded shortly looking over the man he'd brought over from Romania many years ago. "I suspect you have questions."

Of course Callen had questions. What to ask first? "Do you know my name?"

"No," Boian responded. "Clara only ever referred to you as 'my boy' or as 'G.'"

"Why?"

"To limit the information ears could get on you. Just as she called your sister by only 'my girl' or 'Sweetheart.' I didn't know her name until she told me it herself."

"How old was she?"

"When she told me?" Boian rubbed his chin as he mulled the question over. "Fifteen I suppose."

"She drown when she was eleven," Callen glared at the man.

"No," Boian shook his head. "That was a rouse."

"What?" Callen turned to Hetty, she looked more surprised than he could ever remember seeing her being.

::

She'd opened the door just slightly, the cool night air coming in.

She paced, back and forth.

The metal of the gun was warm in her palm.

The door opened with a slam and she had the gun trained on a new target in a split second.

"Lauren," Logan whispered her name, shocked by what he saw. Quickly he came in, completely ignoring the gun she was pointing at him. He shut the door and turned back to face her. The gun still pointed at him, her arms trembling. "Lauren, honey, put the gun down," he said softly.

She tilted her head just slightly. "Honey?" she lowered the gun.

"It's a term of endearment."

"I don't understand why you are using it."

"You were just pointing a gun at me, I figured I could use some points," he said a little anger entering his voice as he looked over her state of undress. "Where is the bastard, I'll kill him."

She pointed with her gun. "You're a little late to that party," her voice turned into a sob that surprised her.

He let out a sigh and took a few cautious steps toward her. Standing beside her, he looked between the two beds where a man was most certainly dead. "Shit." He turned back to her, a t-shirt, one like the ones she often wore under her professional suit blazers. Her legs were bare, socks were still on as were her panties... or were these the garments she'd gotten around to putting back on. He turned away from her really wanting to hit something, break something. He shook his head and forced himself to focus.

The heavy sound had him turning, she'd dropped the gun. She was shaking. He let out a breath and ran a hand through his dishevelled dark hair. "Lauren?" He wasn't sure what to do with her. He pulled off his jacket and lightly put it around her shaking shoulders. He was far more broad than she and the jacket made her appear even smaller, the leather seemed to almost weigh her down. "Christ," he whispered almost in prayer. "Sit down, Lauren. Where are your slacks?"

Of course, that's when she started to cry. Logan looked skyward and then started searching the room till he spotted them, half under the dead body, soaking the blood. He let out a breath and found her duffle bag and searched it until he found a full set of clothing. "Here." He set them on her lap. "Go take a shower? Yeah?"

She looked at him, tears falling from her bright blue eyes the shifted to the body. "No. We have to move."

"Move?"

"Someone, eventually, maybe already has called the police."

"You're a federal agent. This was self-defence." Logan wasn't a cop, or any type of law enforcement, but he figured it was pretty cut and dry.

"I get wrapped up in this, I'm going to have to answer questions." Logan found her difficult to understand, she was crying, sobbing while speaking and it took him a few extra seconds to decipher her words. "There isn't any time."

"Okay, okay, lets go."

Lauren looked at the dead body and nodded.

::

"I've told many lies to keep you and Amy safe," Boian said. "I found out that one of the Comescu's were circling around the orphanage that Amy was in. She was always sneaking out, I spoke to her. Told her to pretend to slip into the water. Good swimmer, your sister."

"So who's body washed up?" Kensi asked.

Boian took a deep breath. "You don't want to know."

"You murdered a child!" Callen accused feeling sick to his stomach.

"No," Boian said sharply. "The kid was about the same physical size as Amy. She was set up for cremation..." Deeks looked a little green, Kensi was staring at the waist bin like it might be her salvation. "They'd need a body to stop looking for Amy. I had to give them that. It was the only way she would be safe."

"And then what did you do with her? Send her away again?" Callen asked bitterly.

"No," Boian shook his head. "She was so shaken, she got sick after the hours of swimming. Nicoleta and I couldn't send her away again."

"Where is she now?" Callen asked, his voice tight.

"I don't know," Boian admitted. "The day she turned eighteen she..." Boian shrugged. "Changed her name, dropped off the map. I didn't go looking for her, Fairchild's had eyes on me. I couldn't risk leading them to her now that she had her clean slate. She could be something other than a Callen. She could live with out the target."

Callen frowned. Whenever he thought he was getting close, he found he was getting farther and farther away. But she was alive... or had been over twenty years ago when Boian had lost track of her.

::

Hunter leaned against the door of the truck Logan was currently driving. She wondered what happened to the car, then again switching it up every once and a while couldn't hurt. She had dressed in black jeans, changed into a clean grey button up blouse and had commandeered Logan's warm leather jacket. His scent clung to it and it was oddly comforting to her.

"Thank you," she whispered figuring he would hear her, they didn't have the radio on, and the windows were up, other than the gentle rumble of the engine there was nothing but silence. "For coming for me... even if you are being pai-"

"Stop it," Logan snapped irritably. "You scared the hell out of me, calling me like that. Saying my name like that... I thought..." actually what happened was pretty much on par with what he thought although he'd been pretty sure he'd show up and she'd be the one with the hole in her head. He decided it was best not to admit that. He shook his head and drove with just one hand on the wheel. "You needed someone. You called me. I wasn't going to let you down."

There was something soft in his voice. She wondered what had brought him to this point. To owing Harris. To working with her. To coming to her aid in the early morning. To this truck, them sitting there stopped at a four-way no cars there, but they weren't moving. He just stared at her openly and she stared back.

"Sorry," she whispered. "And thank you. Just thank you." She felt bad for insinuating he wouldn't come if he wasn't working off his debt to Harris.

"Where too?"

Hunter shut her eyes forcing her mind to think past what had happened. "I need to get a new pre-paid."

::

"Who's after me?" Callen asked getting to the point. It was obvious Boian knew precious little about his sister... one that could still be alive.

"Comescu's think they've taken Amy out... that woman masquerading as Amy Callen."

"Her name was Hannah," Callen glared. "I knew her. She was there when Amy pulled off that rouse in the ocean."

Boian sighed. "Regrettable collateral damage to this war. There has been many. Likely many more. The Comescu family put a price on your head. They want the Callen line to end with you. Fairchilds work for the Comescus. I know of a few of them that are here. And they're all looking for you."

Sam shook his head. "So what do we do?"

"We? There is no 'we,' Sam," Callen said despondently. "This is about me."

"And that makes it about all of us," Kensi snapped.

"You need numbers, Callen," Deeks chimed resting his elbows on his knees.

"No. No, absolutely not!" Callen protested. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm on the losing end of this war!"

"I've always bet on the underdog," Sam said. "After all, look, Deeks is still here."

"Hey!"

"Enough," Hetty said quietly but it stopped the bickering.

::

Hunter started to enter all the numbers from her little data book into her new prepaid and proceeded to call them all while Logan went to fetch them coffee.

"I called you," Nicholas said when she called him.

"Yeah, well... my phone had an accident," Lauren felt sick to her stomach. She'd less than an hour ago murdered this man's father.

"One of those license plates you told me to keep an eye on... found it. It's parked."

"Address?" Hunter felt her blood run cold as Nicholas recited one just down the block from Callen's. "Okay. Thanks." She snapped the flip phone shut as Logan got into the car and passed her a coffee.

"Um... everything o-never mind. What now?"

"Drive to my brothers. One of the twins are there."

::

Lauren had her gun in her hand as she stepped out of the truck, Logan right behind her. "What are you doing?"

"Coming with you," he responded pulling a gun from the back of his jeans. "No way in hell you're going in there alone."

"Who are you?" she whispered.

"Is this really the time?"

"You know how to use that?"

He shot her a dirty look. She took it as a yes.

With no time to waste she hurried to the front and gestured for him to go around back. She waited a few extra seconds and they were murder on her nerves. Her brother could be inside... she worried about what could be on the other side of the door. She tested the knob to find it locked, she took a step back and gave a vicious kick, the wood around the lock splintering and the door slammed open.

::

**Thanks for reading!**


	18. Chapter Fifteen

**A nice long chapter :) Enjoy!**

::

Lauren kept a good grip on her gun as she walked in and quickly ducked behind the wall as two shots went off. She went low and fired a few shots blind before peering around the corner. _Alistair Fairchild._ She pressed her back against the wall again.

_When was this going to end?_ It was a question she'd asked herself for years.

She knew the answer. Deep down she knew it. The fact that there was no way to win this war. She had her chance. She could still walk away, after all, Lauren Hunter isn't on the Comescu's most wanted list... but she couldn't. She couldn't walk away. Not when she knew her brother was out there, alive. Not when her brother had a target on his back.

The only way she was going to see the end of the war though, was with a bullet to the brain. The very thought sent an untimely shiver down her spine.

More shots fired, and she wasn't sure if they were from Alistair's gun, or Logan's. "Get your head in it," she mumbled to herself as she peered around the corner and quickly jerked back as bullets imbedded themselves in the hardwood floor nearby.

"Lauren!" She heard Logan call. He must have saw what a close call it had been. She heard sounds of struggle, something toppling over, metal of a gun falling against the wood floors, shoe clad feet stomping, shuffling, kicking.

She looked around the corner to see Alistair and Logan taking swings at one another, the table on the ground. The way they were fighting, she'd never get a clean shot.

::

"Hey uh..." Eric put his hands up when he came into the boatshed as the agents had quickly turned and drawn on him. "Woah!"

"Eric," Kensi scolded. "This is why people call the boathouse before coming over."

"Yeah... well.." Eric slowly dropped his hands and held his tablet firmly to his chest. His eyes went to Callen as he nodded his head away from the group. "A word?"

Callen sighed and walked away from his team and stood in a corner with Eric. "What is it?"

"Your remember asking me to tell you if I found that vehicle Hunter asked me to look for?"

"Yeah, but now really isn't the time."

Eric's eyebrows jumped up once and he shook his head. "It's inside _your neighbourhood_, G."

Callen's eyes shot skyward for a moment, the then clasped Eric on the shoulder and gave the man a nod. Eric knew it was as close to 'good job' as Callen ever got.

"Sam, you're with me," Callen said walking toward the doors.

"Wait? Where are you guys going?" Kensi asked.

"Long story," Callen replied. "Be back soon."

Kensi and Deeks looked to each other as Callen left and Sam shut the door behind them. They then both simultaneously looked at Eric who fidgeted nervously.

"What did you say to him, Eric?" Kensi asked as she took a few steps forward, Deeks falling into step until they had Eric backed into the corner.

"Yeah, Eric, what did you say?"

Hetty cleared her throat loudly. "Mr Beale, tell them where Mr Callen and Mr Hanna went."

"Home," Eric said quietly. "He went home."

Kensi and Deeks looked to each other and then turned back to Eric with the same question falling from their lips. "Why?"

"A car that Agent Hunter told me to keep an eye out for... was located in Callen's neighbourhood."

"Hunter?" Kensi said shaking her head.

"Mr Deeks, Miss Blye, this is not the time for questions, they may require back up."

Kensi sighed and pulled her keys. "Come on, Shaggy."

Deeks shot Eric one more curious look before following his partner out the door.

::

Alistair had clocked Logan good, and the back of his head had hit the floor with a brutal 'crack.' Alistair moved quicker than Hunter figured a man of his size and stature should, smooth too, trained, which was how he ended up disarming her before she'd even realized what had happened.

Hunter quickly ducked to avoid Alistair's right fist, but he grabbed her shoulders, swung a leg behind hers and she was back on the ground and everything in the past few hours flew through her mind. Training went out the window and she scratched the side of his face as she wriggled trying to get away.

Two shots and Alistair's eyes went blank and then there was the crushing weight of him on top of her. She quickly started to push and was assisted when Logan viciously pushed the man off of her.

"You alright?" he asked.

"You shot him."

"Yeah," Logan said looking over at the dead man. "I'm going to guess we don't have the time to clean this up?" Hunter shook her head. He offered her his hand and she took it. He hauled her up and they stood there for a minute. "Now what?" he asked.

"I don't know!"

She turned away from him and if he was guessing correctly, she was bordering on hysteria and he wasn't exactly sure what he would do with her if she was. She had been intelligent, methodical in all she'd done to this point, but he could see the edges fraying, the damage done.

Hunter breathed in deeply through her nose and let it out through her mouth trying to calm herself down. Alistair Fairchild dead was a good thing, she told herself. One down. It didn't seem to shorten the list of enemies though.

"We need to go, I need time to think."

"The back," he grabbed her arm in a hurry. "We've got company!"

"Crap," she muttered turning to look out the window where a familiar black car had stopped. Logan tugged on her arm and she followed him through the house to the back door where they were met with Sam Hanna. "Crap!"

"Hunter?"

"Agent Hanna," Hunter sighed. "It's clear!"

::

"It's clear!"

He recognized the voice, his brain placed it and yet he still couldn't believe it. He flicked on the lights as he moved through the house and stared at his partner for a second who simply shrugged as if to say 'I have no explanation for this.' Callen's eyes shifted to Hunter and to the tall, stocky man behind her.

"What the hell is this?" Callen asked.

"A _very_ long story."

"G! Sam!" Kensi called.

"It's clear," Sam hollered back.

"Uh... why are their bullet holes in the hardwood?" Deeks asked.

"And a body in the living room?" Kensi walked down the hall and raised her eyebrows in surprise upon seeing Hunter.

"What are you doing here?" Callen asked Hunter, their blue eyes locking. Hunter looked skyward. "Hey," Callen grabbed her shoulders and gave her a shake, which earned him a good hard shove from the man who had been behind her, and was now standing in front of her defensively. "Who the hell are you?" Callen asked looking up at the man.

He didn't answer the question. "Keep your hands to yourself."

"Logan, it's fine," Hunter's hand seemed small on his arm as she pulled him a bit and he relented, sidestepping to stand beside her. "Callen..." she looked over to Logan and he shrugged. "Damn it," she looked to the floor, scuffed it a bit with her shoe. "Look, you are in danger."

"In danger?" She looked up to see the mask of anger upon his face, her eyes went to his hands that were curled up in fists.

Truth?

Lie?

"My investigation into the Comescu family brought up... the fact that there is a price on your head," part lie, part truth, she found falling from her lips. Maybe she should just tell him the truth, all of it, but the lie was so much easier, so much more familiar. "The man in the livingroom is Alistair Fairchild, he works with the Comescu family, is here for the bounty."

Callen looked to Sam and then shook his head pacing a few steps away, blocked off by Kensi and Deeks he paced back. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

"I thought I could keep it contained."

"It's my life! How do you think you could keep something on this scale contained!"

"I've been doing it for fifteen years!" She yelled back, the tether on her temper finally snapping. She'd been through too much in too short of a time span to think logically, everything had been boiling within her for years... eventually, something has to give. "I've kept it from touching you so you could have a normal life! So you wouldn't have this hanging over your head, waiting for the other shoe to drop, or the bullet to finally pierce your heart!" She let out an Romanian curse and ran her hand through her hair.

Callen watched her carefully, the words having an odd effect on his heart, it raced and he grabbed her chin lightly and her eyes flicked to meet his. Her blue eyes filled with tears that she refused to let fall. "Why?" Callen asked her in a whisper, but somewhere, deep down, instinct he guessed, the reason those blue eyes had bothered him... he knew.

She looked skyward. "Because I promised to," she finally said looking at him. "_Little brother_," she whispered in Romanian. "_I've always looked out for you_."

Everyone but Callen had been left out of the loop when Hunter had switched over to Romanian. He dropped his hand from her chin and stared for a good ten seconds. "Amy?" he whispered afraid to believe it was true. Still, there she was, the bright blue eyes, her hair had darkened over the years, thin lips, strong bones, she looked much like their mother.

She nodded just slightly. "We need to go, _little brother_, his sister is not going to be happy," she said pointing to the living room.

He had waited this long for answers, he figured he could wait a few more moments till they could get somewhere more secure. "Boatshed?"

She nodded and grabbed Logan's hand. "Come on."

::

The group walked into the boatshed, not much had been said on the way back, mostly silence as Callen settled into the idea that his sister was alive. Not only that, but he knew her, had for a while. And she irritated him. He smiled.

Hunter faltered in her step and Logan bumped into her back not expecting her to stop. "What's it?" He whispered.

"Boian?"

The man turned and seemed to just deflate. "Oh Amy? You're alright."

She nodded daftly. "Yeah. Yeah. Nicoleta?"

"She's fine."

"Vivi? Alex?"

Boian frowned at the mention of his children. "Alex was murdered. Can't prove it but... my guess is one of the Fairchild's. And Vivian..." he sighed. "She took off, years ago... the war took Toby."

Hunter frowned. Alex and Vivian Piascovschi had been like siblings to her growing up. It hurt to hear that Alex had been murdered, a casualty of the bloody war that had been going on for decades. Toby had been Vivian's high school sweetheart. Hunter had been a little envious of the love they shared. Learning that Toby had been killed in their war had Hunter's stomach in knots. She couldn't blame Vivian for wanting a clean slate, for wanting out of the war that had taken so much.

"Am I going to get my answers now?" Callen asked impatiently.

"_Yes, yes,"_ Hunter muttered in Romanian. _"You always were impatient." _

"_Are you stalling?" _he asked in return.

It was odd. She felt giddy. The prospect of telling the truth, the full truth had always scared her, but now that the time was upon her, it felt as if the weight was beginning to lift. "What do you want to know first.

"My name would be a good place to start."

Her blue eyes welled up upon the request. She stepped over to him, their blue eyes locked. "Grigore, your name is Grigore. It means 'watchful' and 'vigilant,'" she gave a little shrug of her shoulders. "I guess mom nailed that one on the head, huh?"

"Grigore Callen," Callen tested it out and then everyone else did too and he couldn't help but laugh. "Smart-asses."

The group took to sitting around the table. Hetty stared at the woman. She'd never met Amy as a little girl, she'd only met Clara in private- though the woman told her of the children. She was suppose to meet them on the beach... Lauren Hunter, or Amy Callen, one in the same, it was hard to believe she was there, an NCIS agent. Hetty shook her head, she'd thought she'd seen it all. Clearly not.

"Who's he?" Callen asked nodding his head at Logan who was sitting close to Hunter.

"Logan Cole," she said slowly looking at the man in question. "If that is your real name."

He narrowed his dark eyes. "It is."

"And he..."

"He is..." Hunter fumbled. "A long story."

"What happened to our father?"

Hunter squirmed in her seat and shrugged. "Don't know."

Callen sighed, exasperated. "What can you tell me?"

"We were suppose to get out of Romania with a CIA contact of our mother's. I... I got sick," Hunter leaned back in her chair and ran her thumb over the wood grain of the table. "She took you with her to the beach... she left me with our father."

"So he's alive?"

"I don't know," Hunter admitted. "That was what over thirty years ago. I've never found any record of him, living or dead. When mom was... murdered on the beach..." she looked over to Boian. "I guess you and Nicoleta took us then?"

Boian nodded. "We found G on the beach. Toy soldier in his hand. Scared. Stayed close to Clara. Didn't want to leave her. I picked you up from your father's."

"Why... why didn't he take us?" Callen asked at the same time Hunter asked, "Why didn't he come with us?"

"The Comescu's wanted him dead. He figured... they'd track him down before they went for a couple of kids, especially considering how dangerous your father was. Your mother was CIA and she couldn't hold a candle to him." Boian sighed. "Over the next five days members of the Comescu family dropped like flies. Car accidents, gas leaks, tumbles into ravines. All of it looking like accidents- that's how I knew it was Serghei. Serg always knew how to make it look like an accident." Boian frowned. "And after those five days... nothing. No more death reports." He shrugged. "Figure the only way he'd stop drawing the fire from you two... is if it finally hit him."

Callen looked over to his sister and she raised her head as if sensing his gaze. They were all they had left.

"Nicoleta and I took you two here. Big American city. Figured you two would get lost in it. Figured that the Comescu's wouldn't keep looking."

"Why try and kill children?" Deeks asked in a whisper.

"Children become adults. Children with bloody childhoods become vengeful adults." Boian looked to the two Callen children. "Vengeful becomes hard to deal with."

Hunter smirked and looked over to find a similar expression on her little brother's face. His blue eyes met her and his lips quirked into an actual smile. He then turned to Boian. "So now they know where I am?"

Boian slid a folder across the table and Callen opened it. Hunter leaned in. "Alistair is dead," she took that picture from the pile.

"Quinn, his twin sister," Boian pointed. "She's going to be right pissed."

"We need to do something about that body," Hunter said sitting back.

Boian looked to Hetty who sighed. "I'll... think of something." Callen looked over at Hetty worriedly, she sounded her years and it bothered him. She seemed... tired.

"This is Finley," Boian pointed. "Degenerate gambler, always more debt than he can pay off. He'll be desperate... he'll be gunning for you."

Callen sighed. "That seems to be the running theme here."

"You're not alone," Hunter said softly. "They aren't going to get to you."

Callen stared at her. Fifteen years, she'd said... and she had watched out for him during his childhood... spent the vast majority of her life protecting him.

"This is Mikhail," Boian pointed to another picture.

Hunter sat a little straighter in her chair. "When did he fly in?"

"Last night."

"Damn it!" Hunter frowned, she shook her head. "I didn't get a call about him."

"And just who are you working with?" Hetty asked her, eyes daring the woman to lie.

Hunter narrowed her blue eyes. "Not NCIS," was her brisk response.

Boian shook his head. "Rogue agent?"

"Like I've had a choice," Hunter muttered.

"Amy," Boian scolded. "There is always a choice."

Hunter stood, paced for a tense minute before she turned back to the group. "I'm leaving," she threw her badge on the table. Boian was right. There was always a choice. She couldn't protect him as an agent. She had to leave that part of her behind. She'd worked so hard to become an agent, it hurt to drop that badge down. "Hetty keep him here."

Hetty looked like she was about to speak, but Callen beat her to it. "Where do you think you're going?" He'd just found his sister, and he'd be damned if he was just going to let her walk right back out of his life.

"To do what I need to, I can't be an agent, I can't be following protocol, I can't be _here_."

"What contacts have you gained?" Boian asked. If he knew, maybe he could help.

"Better question would be how long before they turn on you," Logan asked sharply, standing so quickly that his chair fell to the ground.

Hunter turned on him quickly. "Shut it."

"What?" he asked a few long strides and he was well into her personal space. "Was I not suppose to say anything? Laur-... Amy, you are going to get yourself _killed!_"

"What the hell is it to you?"

"I don't want your blood on my hands!"

"Then don't come!"

He ran a hand through his dark dishevelled hair, his deep brown eyes narrowing at her. "Christ, you don't make it easy, do you?" He shook his head, a look of disbelief on his face. "Play this smart Laur-" he shook his head. "Whoever! Okay, just... you're in over your head here."

"I've kept my head above water long enough, and without you, thank you very much," she snapped haughtily as she turned to the door.

Logan fumed. "Fine then. You want me to tell them about the dead body in the hotel? Or do we want to keep that one quiet?"

She whirled around. "What is the matter with you!" This time it was her quick angry strides that brought her into his personal space. She gave him a hard shove. "This is done. Go back to Harris."

"No."

"No?"

"That's right, no. I'm not your bitch-boy Lauren..." he shook his head but didn't bother to correct her name. It was of little consequence to the conversation. "I'm –"

"No, you're not my bitch-boy, you work for Harris."

"I owe Harris," Logan corrected angrily. His focus was on Hunter, hers on him and neither paid any mind to the way everyone was watching them. "There is a very big difference."

"And why is that?"

"_That_, is none of your damn business!"

"I'm leaving," Hunter said shaking her head, wondering why she even allowed the argument to go on as long as it had.

"_Sit,"_ Boian ordered deeply in Romanian. _"What dead body? What hotel?" _

Hunter glared at Logan and shook her head at Boian. "Does not matter."

Boian crossed his arms across his chest. "Amy Callen, sit your ass down."

Her prepaid went off and she fished it out checking the number before she looked at Boian. "You're not my father," she said coldly before she turned on her heel and walked right out.

"You're not going to stop her?" Deeks said exasperated and for a second Callen though that the detective was referring to him, but instead the bright blue eyes were on Logan.

Logan glared at the detective. "She wants to go all lone-wolf? Fine! Let her!" He said angrily. "Good riddance," he muttered after a few long tense seconds. He stood there and then kicked a near by table and the thing came crashing down. "God damn it." He pulled out his keys. "I'm only going because she'll just hot-wire my car... and she has my jacket. I love that jacket."

"Wait," Callen grabbed the man by the arm and placed a hand behind his neck. "You take care of her."

Logan pushed him back, glared and recited the hotel name and room number. "Dead body... it was self-defence. I wasn't there..." Callen stared at the man, it was obvious that despite how much Logan didn't want to care about his sister, he did. And the fact that he hadn't been there when she had needed him, it was obviously bothering him deeply. "This family vendetta bullshit is going to kill her. She's trying to end it." Logan pointed to the photographs. "Those are targets, and the people she's dealing with, getting help from, are just as dangerous as those she's trying to take out."

"You're one of those people," Callen said narrowing his eyes.

"I'm..." Logan shook his head. "Look, I have to go before she hot-wires my car. I can't guarantee anything. I can't make promises. There is a good chance that before the end of this she's six feet under, and that's not something I can prevent." Logan shrugged. "I can't save her. Don't know why I'm even still trying." He heard a car rev up and he turned. "Shit," the door was slammed behind him a second later.

The group was quiet for a long moment. Kensi smirked. "You tagged him, didn't you?"

Callen nodded. "Of course, I was the one who taught you. Back collar... wish I could have bugged the car."

"Doesn't give us a big window, G," Sam said.

"Eric," Callen turned. "Hunter's phone, who just called it?"

Eric played around with her tablet. "Her phones been disconnected... she purchased a new one... credit card."

"Not too bright," Kensi muttered.

"You haven't saw her finances," Eric replied. "She's broke. Paying credit cards off other credit cards... from the withdrawals over past months, all large sums, looks like she's paid some of those people for help. Not much in cash. Down to twelve dollars in her account. Ah, got the number."

"Who?" Callen asked.

"Nicholas Williams."

"Oh no... she didn't," Boian shook his head.

"What?" Callen asked.

"If it's the Williams family I'm thinking of... she's in _deep_."

::

**Thanks for reading :)**


	19. Chapter Sixteen

"Hey, hey wait!" Logan slammed his hands down on the hood of the car thankful that she'd braked. "Christ." He shook his head as he walked to the passengers side and got in slamming the door shut behind him. "Just what has gotten into you?"

"Gotten into me?" she scoffed. "You make me sound like some unruly teenager."

Logan tried to get his temper under control, but it wasn't working very well. "You're making split second decisions." He fastened his seatbelt and she put the car into gear. "You found your brother, gave him some measure of truth and then just... took off. Those people in that room could help you if you just... _let them_."

"People in this war die," she responded. "You should get out while you still can, before they see you as an ally, before you're dead in some alley way just because you..." she tightened her grip on the wheel.

"And what about you?" Logan wished he was driving. He would have pulled over by now, auto-locked the doors and forced some kind of confrontation between them, it was a little difficult to have when she was driving, her glossy eyes on the road, he couldn't make out her expressions in her profile as well as he'd like.

She gave a shrug. "I've spent my entire life wilting under the shadow of this war. I'll be a casualty of it. I know that. I accept it."

"Pull over."

"No."

"Pull over!"

Maybe he finally got it, finally realized the danger he was in. Maybe he would save himself, walk away. Oddly, the idea made her both happy and sad. She flicked on her blinker and pulled into a small lot.

His seatbelt snapped off but he didn't exit the vehicle. "Laur–Amy..." He turned toward her and here eyes met his apprehensively. "You could have a life outside of this... you could get out... please," his hand was surprisingly gentle as he brushed back a stray lock of hair and tucked it behind her ear. "Separate yourself from this mess, before it's too late."

"I was born into this," she replied with a sudden calm. With all the emotional upheaval she was shocked by the measure of patience she still had. "It's forty-four years to late for me to get out of this."

"No changing your mind?"

"No Logan, this is my battle and I must fight it."

He let out a sigh. "Who called?"

Her eyes cast down. "Nicholas Williams." Her eyes flicked back up to meet his dark ones. "He wants to meet up. Has some kind of information, doesn't want to do it over the phone."

"That sounds like bad news."

"He's a child in this war," Hunter scoffed. "His father was the only real danger."

"Where are we going to meet him?"

"Why are you helping me? You could have left... why haven't you?"

Logan was quiet for a long moment. "Do you want to know why I owe Harris?" She looked over at him, her eyes wide. She had asked before, poked, prodded, but he always shut her down. She never expected him to just open up about it. "My ex-wife was a heroin addict. I... I did everything to get her clean. I worked double shifts to pay for the rehab." He was quiet for a moment and Hunter let the new information sink in. "She blamed me, you know, for getting addicted to begin with. If I was home more, she wouldn't go out by herself, wouldn't have made friends with those men who hooked her on so much..." He didn't look at her anymore, but instead stared straight ahead.

"It's hardly your fault."

"I know that," he replied softly. "Didn't make her blaming me for all the pain she was in any easier though. And maybe if I hadn't worked so much, if I had been home more..." his eyes flicked to her and she gave a little shrug. "Then we wouldn't have been able to keep up with mortgage or car payments, I had to work, I know that. Worked more to pay for rehab, put her through it and she got clean. Things started to look good again. We talked about moving to a smaller home, a less expensive neighbourhood. Things felt like they were back on track. One morning I was drinking coffee, reading the paper and she just sat down beside me with a coffee of her own... 'lets have a baby,' she said. She'd been the one that wanted to hold off, I'd been the one that wanted a kid, you know. So... her sayin' it... I thought... we'd made it through the rough patch... I thought things were going to be okay."

Hunter knew the desire to have a family, although she never even allowed herself to truly become involved in long term relationships in fear she'd drag the unlucky man into her mess. She wanted it though. A husband, a quaint little home, a child. Things she wanted, but knew she couldn't have.

She didn't like hearing the pain in his voice, noticed the way he kept rubbing his ring finger of his left hand. The ring was gone, but it was like he was still searching for it.

"For a while things were good," he spoke softly. "And then... they were really good. She was pregnant. Oh God, we were excited," he laughed. "Bought these little shoes. One set in blue, one in pink, covering the bases. Too excited to wait to see if it would be a boy or girl."

She couldn't find it in herself to smile because she just knew by the haunted look in his eye that his story doesn't end well.

"She had debts, with her dealers. She hadn't told me. We would have handled it... but she'd wanted to ignore it, wished it would go away. Short version... they got her hooked again, she lost the baby, got more debt than she could handle, took more beatings on her behalf than I did for being four grades ahead when I entered high school. She filed for divorce... and I went to Harris because the only way she would ever be free, ever get clean was if every single one of those dealing sons of bitches were dead."

Hunter felt cold. "You put a hit out."

"No," Logan replied quietly. "I asked for their addresses."

::

"Nicholas Williams; location sent to your phones," Nell said and she stood by Eric in the boatshed. They watched Sam and Callen walk out first, Kensi and Deeks close behind.

"We need to get rid of that body, Hetta, this war must play out in the shadows," Boian said wisely as he stood.

"Surely we will think of something," Hetty stood and adjusted the hem of her suit jacket.

"Just like old times?" Boian said with a boyish grin.

Hetty just shook his head and followed him out.

Nell and Eric looked to one another. "This is big," Nell said.

"And it's bad," Eric replied.

Both sighed and headed out the back. They both longed for the safety of their OPS centre.

::

"Just where is this guy?" Logan complained as he continued climbing the stairs behind Hunter.

"Roof," she replied. She still wasn't sure what to think of him, she hadn't been able to process the information yet. He'd murdered those men, of this she was sure. And for the information, she owed Harris, and was paying off his debt by working for her. A shift in debts for now she owed Harris. Her head ached and her gun felt too weighty in her hand.

"Why the roof?" Logan said as they rounded another landing. "Why not the third floor, or the fifth, or the seventh? What was wrong with them? Why the god damn roof? Dramatic effect? This is bad Amy."

She sensed it to on some level. The wrongness of it. She just didn't have anything left in her to care. "Nicholas called. He knows where Finley is. I'm going to get the address. End of story."

"Look, maybe it wasn't the time to spring my personal history on you but, would you stop?" he grabbed her arm on the landing and crowded her into the corner. "Stop just for a second and think clearly. I know what I did, I know why I did it and it hasn't made it any easier to live with. I fucking got away with multiple counts of murder Amy, and trust me, the fact that I've admitted that to a federal agent hasn't slipped by me. You've killed in self-defence and it isn't the same thing. This is cold blooded murder we're talking about."

She stared up at him cooly. "Are you done? I have a meeting to attend."

"You're going to get yourself killed."

"Why do you care? Some long standing guilt, think that if you can turn me around you can redeem yourself?"

"No. Look, I'm a border-line genius, Amy, don't insult my intelligence. I'm beyond redemption. You're not. I can't explain why I care about you, but I do. You're smart, and you're loyal, and you're loving, of that I'm certain. I don't want to see those blue eyes turn grey and lifeless."

"You're going to make me late. I don't like being late."

He let out a sigh and backed up. "After you," he gestured to the stairs going up and she turned away from him to continue climbing them.

Hunter reached the top of the stairs checked her weapon under her blazer and looked to Logan who gave her a nod. "I'm right behind you."

She pushed the door open and Logan was at her side in the next instant as they walked out together. Nicholas Williams was there... and he'd brought friends.

::

Callen got out of the Challenger and Sam was right by him. "Boian didn't give us much to go on," Callen commented.

"Computer geek for hire," Sam responded. "His father is the real danger, but Nicholas might be able to give us something... he has something to give Hunter."

Callen turned his phone. "Who's here... well Logan is at least."

"Good thing he hasn't found the bug."

"Still doesn't specify which floor of the building they're on though."

Kensi joined them. "Talked the security guard. "We're in luck. Only the first floor is functioning, the rest of them are under a secure lock, still lots of construction."

"So they have to be on the first floor," Sam said.

As the sound of a gun went off they all looked up. "Or the roof!" Callen exclaimed as he started to run, his team right behind him.

::

**Sorry the chapter is a little short but it was a good place to break off before the next one. **

**Thanks for reading :)**


	20. Chapter Seventeen

Boian sighed as he stared at the phone.

"She hung up on you."

"She had ever right too," Boian responded. "Daughters should be loved, protected. By protecting the Callen's I've brought my own children into this. I am the reason my Alex is dead."

"Boian," Hetty's authoritative manner was back after the shock of finding out that not only was Amy Callen alive, but that she was Lauren Hunter of all people! "You did the right thing saving those children."

"It still cost me one of my own... and a man who would have been my son-in-law before long. I cost my daughter her brother and the man she loved."

"Vivian has healed, it has been years, hasn't it?"

"Many," Boian agreed. "Nearly a decade... she never married." He entered the hotel room first noted the mess, knew the signs of a struggle when he saw one. One leg stuck out from between the beds and he walked over for a better view. "She has a good shot."

Hetty sighed looking down at the dead body and then her eyes went to what he was laying on. Careful not to step in the pool of blood she walked a bit closer. Women's slacks. She turned and from the tense look on Boian's face he saw it too.

He turned away but spotted a blazer on the ground. "What did he do to her?"

"Best not to dwell on that," Hetty replied. "We have to worry about getting this body out of here."

"And take it where, Hetta?"

Hetty blew out a breath. "Good question."

"You want to take the proper route. You want the authorities on this."

"It's the way I work, Boian. You know that."

"Yeah. I know. Because if you had a spine of your own instead of a puppeteer, Clara would be alive, Amy and Grigore would have a mother and maybe this war would have stayed clear of them."

It was a hard pill to swallow, such hard truths. "It is my deepest regret," Hetty whispered. "That I didn't go to that beach to meet with Clara. That I couldn't save her... save those children from this life."

"This must be hidden," Boian pointed to the dead body. "She can't handle an investigation now. She's a rouge agent. She's living under a changed name, likely falsified documents. She created her own legend. We let others dig, they'll destroy Lauren Hunter, and Amy Callen will become a target. It's time to do what you couldn't before. Protect them."

::

_Chaos, it was chaos. _

"Amy?" Logan shook her one handed by the shoulder and her eyes focussed. "You good?"

"You're bleeding," she blinked a few times. Seconds earlier they'd come out onto the roof. Nicholas had brought friends. One of them she recognized as Finley Fairchild, who had raised his gun at her, but Logan had tackled her out of the way and they were currently pinned down behind some kind of fan unit. He lifted his head and fired a few shots keeping their attackers at bay. She gripped his arm where blood was trickling down his arm, he hissed and pulled it away.

"Get your head in this," Logan ducked down as the other's opened fire.

"We're screwed," she said over the gunfire.

"Oh, I just love optimism." He fired a few shots blindly.

Hunter held her gun in her hand. What had she gotten them into? They both knew how wrong this had felt and yet she'd come anyways... and he'd followed. She risked raising her head a bit trying to get a visual but Logan pulled her back down. Bullets seemed to be coming from everywhere.

"How many?" Hunter wondered out loud.

"There was five out in the open when we came up."

"Five on two?" And there was the possibility that there could be more. She didn't like their odds.

::

Callen wasn't going to lose his sister. Not again. He took the stairs two at a time listening to the gunfire, and knew it was better than silence. Silence indicated it was all over.

He got to the top and turned. Sam was right behind him, gun at the ready. Deeks and Kensi both gave him a sharp nod, their guns in hand. Gunfire was incessant on the other side, there was yelling of orders but words couldn't be properly made out. The heat in the stairwell was oppressive, and a bead of sweat ran down the back of his neck. "Three," he said preparing them as they did the rest of the count down in their heads.

Callen burst through the door. Minimal cover. He shot the first man, Sam a second but the gunfire had them both instinctively running toward separate modes of cover. Kensi and Deeks both took cover behind the bricks of the stairwell. Callen behind a second stairwell, and Sam behind a cooling unit.

He looked around the corner and fired off a few shots, but the men were moving for cover of their own. He did spot his sister though, Amy popping her head up briefly before ducking back down. There had been a rush or relief. She was still in one piece! He forced himself to focus, his grip on his service weapon tightening as he peered around the corner.

_Footsteps. _

He quickly turned but his gun was knocked out of his hand. He quickly ducked to dodge a fist and moved back a few steps to get some space, his eyes travelling to where his gun turned on it's side before it came to a rest. When his eyes focussed on his opponent he recognized the man from the file. Finley Fairchild.

::

Boian dumped the dead body in the trunk of a car. Paid the man a few thousand dollars and walked away. "Hotel room is going to be a problem. Not sure if I can pay off the owner," Boian said as the dead body went away with a Cleaner.

Hetty fought the urge to shudder. "This is _so_ wrong." She'd fought for justice, stayed within the lines and rules that the bureaucrats dictated. Still, she had done nothing as Boian had made the arrangements. She wanted to, _needed to _protect the Callen siblings, as she had failed to do them and their mother so long ago.

Boian looked down at the small woman, though she was small in stature only, in all other ways the woman was larger than life. "Welcome to my world. I'll call Nicoleta. I bet she knows how to get blood out of carpet."

::

"Stay here," Hunter said.

"What? Where are yo-" he watched her dive from cover. "Okay, just go then," Logan muttered bitterly as he fired blindly trying to give her some cover and realized his clip was empty. "Shit, shit," he ejected the magazine and fumbled for the extra clip.

::

Callen saw stars, Finley Fairchild was a big man, strong and a better fighter, _a dirtier fighter _than Callen had considered. Callen was pressed up against the brick wall, two meaty hands choking the life out of him, Callen trying to peel the fingers away but couldn't so he gave up on that tactic. Quickly his arms shot out, palms slamming down on the man's ears. Finley howled and backed up.

Callen gasped and coughed trying to regain his breath. His eyes flicked as someone came around the corner behind his opponent. _Amy_, there was some blood on her hand, but she was still in one piece.

Finley heard her though and spun around grabbing her arm with the gun and slamming it into the wall. It was fire or drop the gun so she dropped it, fearful a stray bullet would hit her brother. Her knee shot out but he blocked it. Callen tried putting the man into a choke hold, but Finley's extra height made it difficult. Callen took a few elbows to the ribs and had to let go.

Hunter grabbed Finley by the hand with both of hers firmly, she turned and went to twist under his arm to pull it behind his back but he grabbed her hair and pulled her off balance. The trio fighting so close to the edge, she nearly fell. The back of her heel over the edge, her back arched and her arms spinning forward as she shifted and regained her equilibrium, her heart jack hammering with fear in her chest. She may have regained her footing but was all the more aware of how dangerous this fight was.

Gunfire seemed lessened, everyone conserving ammo. There was shouting, but it was background noise at best. A door slammed, wether someone was coming or going it was impossible to tell.

Callen went on the offensive and stopped short when Finley had grabbed Hunter around the throat and pulled her in front of him. She bit his arm and he gave her a solid shove. Callen jumped forward and caught her, not wanting her stumbling to catch her own footing- _or not_- on a rooftop, he was acutely aware of the perilous edge.

He didn't see the fist until it was too late, and he dropped, ending up taking the still off balance Hunter with him. Callen pushed up but caught a vicious boot to the ribs that had him flipped over and rolling off the edge. He let out a yell as his hands caught to the edge. "Oh shit," he looked down... that was a bad idea. He looked back up to see Finley sneering down at him.

"Forgetting someone?" He heard his sister's voice. And Finley turned to look at her right before she pulled the trigger- only her gun was out of bullets. "Crap!"

She ducked avoiding a swing and followed with a roundhouse kick, he caught her by the ankle and gave a good pull, she was on her back before she realized, she'd caught most of the fall on her elbows and both were aching badly, but it had softened the blow she took to the head, she shook the wave of nausea and rolled before the foot aimed for his chest could land.

Callen's fingers were slipping, he shifted, dug in. He didn't want to die here, falling over the edge of a building. It was a long way down. He knew what jumpers looked like post-mordem. He didn't want to be a blood smear on the sidewalk. He muttered curses, tried to get his feet into something but there was no grip, he just held on.

Bullets imbedded themselves in the brick of the stairwell they were fighting behind and it sent Finley running for cover. She didn't spare whoever it was a second glance, she did ensure herself that Finley was round the corner before she crawled over to the edge and reached over.

"Grigore!" Her panic, her worry, her fear was getting the best of her. Her heart hammering, she couldn't catch her breath but she got a good grasp on his arm, which was good because he could feel himself slipping. "Come on, come on," she tried to get a better grasp but knew there was no plausible way she could haul him up on her own. "Sam!" She shouted, she'd seen him take cover near by earlier in the fire fight.

"He always answers his phone."

Hunter jumped at the voice, her fingers tightening as she turned to look up at the glint of a gun. "Nicholas," she whispered fearfully, and in that moment she cared far less about her impending demise than she did the fact that if she were to die, she wasn't sure her brother could hold on to the side until help came... or that Nicholas wouldn't kill him too.

"My dad always answers his phone," Nicholas repeated, and she could hear the anger, see the fury in his face, in the way the gun in his hand shook with it. "He went to you... said he was going to collect payment. Said if he didn't call back in an hour that something went wrong. What happened to him? What did you do?"

"He attacked me."

Nicholas's eyes welled up. "He was all the family I had. You took that."

Hunter's grip on Callen's arm tightened with bruising force. The gun still shook in his hand though he levelled it with her head.

"Drop it, kid." Nicholas whirled around and pointed the gun at the newcomer. "Don't make me shoot you, kid. I will if I must, but I do not want to. _Please." _there was an edge of begging. "Just put the gun down."

"She killed my dad," Nicholas said finally and turned his gun toward the woman, but dropped from a bullet to centre mass.

"Vivian," Hunter whispered reverently. She loved the woman as a sister and never in her life had been more thankful for her presence, even if she was just as worried about Vivian being in the middle of a firefight. "Help me," she begged. "I can't pull him up on my own!"

She watched the beautiful woman she considered a sister flick on the safety for her gun. Vivian was of average height, bright green eyes currently surveying the area for anymore enemy combatants before she stepped forward, her lithe toned body currently dressed in black jeans a white and blue shirt, ballerina flats- not exactly combat wear and made her appear horribly out of place. Her hair was long, blonde and pulled back in a low pony-tail.

Vivian Piascovschi knelt near the ledge, hoping for more leverage to pull up the man. She reached out. "Give me your hand!"

Callen was just trying to keep his grip, holding himself up in such a way was putting strain on his ribs, still tender from the fight. He took a deep breath. He recognized that voice. He looked up and into the familiar viridian eyes. "Venice?" The memories of the beach, the beautiful sketches, her smile as she walked barefoot in the sand, the bracelet in his hand and the kiss she placed upon his cheek.

"Blue eyes?" Her eyes were wide with shock.

Hunter was shocked that they knew each other and was about to express it when she heard more gunfire, it wasn't surprising but the sound of pain that came with it had her instinctively looking over in Logan's direction to spot him sprawled out on the ground. "Logan!" she screamed reflexively, her hand tightening again around her brother's arm. "Oh God," she whispered tears welling in her eyes. As much as she wanted to rush to his aid, she had to stay, had to help her brother.

Vivian heard the pitch of absolute panic in the woman's voice, she considered Amy to be a sister, had grown up with her as such, she knew the looks on her face, the tones of her voice... she just knew- whoever Logan was, he meant something. Amy Callen didn't get all teary eyed and panicked over just anybody. In a hurry, Vivian reached over the edge. "Come on, give me your hand!"

Callen risked it and let go of the rooftop to grab Vivian's hand, her grip deceptively strong on his wrist as he grabbed her wrist in return, his sister still keeping hold of his other arm. Vivian pulled and lifted with her legs till he was raised enough that Hunter could grab his leg and pull him up further. He laid on his back for a second, a moment of bliss as the fear ebbed, he was simply happy to have something solid directly beneath him. Before he could even give thanks though, Hunter was on her feet and sprinting out in the line of fire.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph!" Vivian growled grabbing her gun, taking off the safety and immediately got to work laying down suppressive fire, spotting Finley taking a dive down into the stairwell, her teeth grinded together with the sheer fury she felt. "Damn it!"

Callen reclaimed his gun, checked the clip- four bullets, and this was his extra. He was at Vivian's side in a moment, she was shorter than him by about four inches, her hair smelt different, no longer like the beach and flowers, but of strawberries and for some reason it deeply bothered him. She wasn't the girl he met three years ago before they'd gone their separate ways without even the other's name.

There was a finality of a bullet. One from Deeks's gun that took down the last enemy on the rooftop. Sam, Kensi and Deeks immediately went to doing a sweep to ensure that was truly the case.

Vivian wanted to chase after Finley, but her gun had two bullets. Besides, her honorary sister needed her. She turned, studied quickly the face she had come to know well despite how little time they'd shared. "Come on Blue Eyes," she'd get the full story eventually, but right now they had wounded to be tended.

Callen kept his eyes moving, scanning the rooftop as they went, his gun still at the ready as Vivian jogged over to drop down beside Hunter. The women's eyes met, Hunter's hands were covered in blood, she'd discarded the heavy material of her blazer- it didn't do good to absorb, she'd stripped off her t-shirt and was using it instead, kneeling in her black basic bra her eyes filled with tears. "Vivi, please, help him."

"He needs a hospital!" Vivian responded in a soft, reasonable tone. "This is beyond me."

"Viv!"

The woman let out a sigh, weary, it seemed to come from all the way down in her toes. "I'll do what I can. We have to get him off the roof. I have supplies in my car. We need a place."

Logan let out a groan, his eyes opened for a moment. His eyes immediately sought Hunter's.

"You're going to be okay," she told him. "We'll get you patched up," she wasn't sure how coherent her words were, what with the sob blocking her throat as it tried to get free and she tried to hold it in.

His teeth were grit together, his hands in fists at his side. He couldn't take the pain on her face, in her voice, and the knowledge that, that particular pain came from him. He managed to force a pained smirk. "Would have got shot earlier had I known it'd get you out of your shirt."

She snorted a laugh out of pure surprise.

Vivian stood, turning to Callen. "Phone!"

"What, you don't have one?" Callen muttered pulling his from his jeans.

"Sorry I didn't think to take the time to find it in my purse before I came here," she replied snappily as she swiped the phone from his hand. She started to dial.

"And why are you here?" Callen had to ask, despite all that was going on around them, he had to ask.

"Because my father sent me. After all," she said sounding resigned. "It's always been a Piascovschi's duty to guard a Callen." He stood with a shocked expression and she perked at the voice on the phone. "Mom, going to need a hand. We've got wounded."

::

**The history between Callen and Vivian 'Venice' Piascovschi is covered in the one-shot 'Venice'**

**Thanks for reading!**


	21. Chapter Eighteen

It was a pretty gruelling task, getting Logan down the flights of stairs since the elevators weren't yet working in the building Sam on one side, Callen on the other as Deeks and Kensi quickly cleared the area for those who had fled, and opened doors. Vivian was walking just a step in front of Callen trying to maintain pressure to the wound, her hands glistening morbidly in the blood.

Hunter had brought up the back, her hands shaking, her heart thumping away with her panic. Guilt added to the weight she carried on her shoulders. He had known, just as she had, that the roof was going to be dangerous, that something was off but she'd gone anyways and deep down she had known that he would follow.

In four vehicles they drove to a modest ocean-side home and quickly unloaded the unconscious Logan. Hunter stared at the doorway at a face she had not laid eyes on in many years. Nicoleta had aged, looked more worn down by her duties, her long blonde hair had been cut short, silver hair streaked it. She looked more fierce than ever though. The red sweater hugged the athletic body that most women her age had given up on having, black straight legged jeans semi covered her sensible flat shoes.

Hunter had been old enough to hold onto memories of her birth mother, but Nicoleta had been her mother figure for the vast majority of her life and seeing her once again brought her a great deal of joy- though it warred violently with the grief in her heart, her body trembled and she wanted to cry. Forty four years old, still wants to curl up with her 'mom' and have Nicoleta tell her that everything is going to be okay.

::

"They've got injured," Boian said. "We're on our own."

"It's likely best to pay off the clerk," Hetty said. "That much blood, I don't even think Nicoleta could get it out."

Boian sighed. "This is going to cost me."

::

It took nearly two hours, but Nicoleta dug out the slug and patched Logan up best she could. Hunter had sat on the coffee table passing Nicoleta medical supplies as she worked on Logan who was sprawled out, far too tall for the couch, his legs dangling over the edge of the sectional.

"Didn't hit anything major," Nicoleta said standing as she pulled off surgical gloves. "A bit of blood loss, but Vivian did a good job at keeping the pressure on till you got him here. His body will replenish, but for now he needs rest."

Hunter clenched her teeth against the cold way Nicoleta spoke the facts. This was Logan she was talking about. He was gravely injured but Nicoleta spoke as if she were simply talking about the weather, this was his life that hung in the balance.

Nicoleta placed a hand on her shoulder, over the blazer she'd pulled back on to cover herself. It was speckled with blood, but the dark material didn't advertise it. "Amy," she said softly before she pressed a kiss to the younger woman's temple. "He will be alright."

Hunter raised her hand to cover Nicoleta's and squeezed.

"Oh, sweet-heart," Nicoleta sat beside her on the coffee table and pulled Hunter into her arms, it was only then that the rogue agent realized she was crying. "He's going to be okay, Amy, let it out, all will be well."

The sob broke free as the weight of everything that had happened in the past few days became too much for her to bear. And safe in the arms of the woman she considered to be a mother, she wept.

::

Callen found her in a large bedroom, the door had been open so he stood in the doorway watching. She'd taken a shower since coming to the modest ocean-side home. Her long blonde hair was still damp and flirted with the edge of her high-waist jeans, a plain black t-shirt was tucked in.

He looked around the room, it was plain. White walls. Desk in the corner with a lamp. Bed along the opposite wall, blue comforter twin sized as any larger likely would work in the small space. A decent guest room, he supposed.

"Venice."

She turned and sighed. "Blue Eyes."

"So..." he wasn't entirely sure where to start.

"So," she replied raising an arched eyebrow.

"What are you doing here?"

"My parents live here," she responded shortly. He didn't remember her having a temper, sure, he'd ticked her off a few times during their short acquaintance, but she seemed to carry a flicker of anger around with her now, just waiting for something to set it off.

"So... your real name is Vivian Piascovschi?"

"Yes, and yours is really Grigore Callen." She laughed, and unlike the laughter of before, the laugh that reminded him of true happiness, this was bitter. She ran both hands through her long damp hair. "You know, fate is a heartless bitch. I wished to see you again, I was so sad when I had to part ways... and yet, this is how we are reunited."

"Why did you leave?" Callen asked, for after all these years that he'd wanted to ask, he hoped now he'd get an answer.

"It wasn't safe. I had to go. You're not the only one on the Comescu's hit-list, although I'm considerably further down the list, especially since I am... I was a non-combatant. I had spotted one of the Fairchild around. I had to leave. They had found me... though I now think perhaps it was you that they had tracked down..."

"Non-combatant?"

"I never wanted this!" She screamed her temper lost, her hands in fists. "Have I not lost enough to them? This is not my life!"

"Viv." Callen quickly turned at the sound of Boian's voice behind him. "Enough."

There was a look of pure rage on Vivian's face as she stormed past. "I hate you," she spoke coldly as she passed her father, and there was a look of anguish on his face as Callen watched.

"She will fight," Boian assured Callen.

"I don't want her to," Callen replied pushing past the man and following in the direction that the woman he had known as 'Venice' had gone.

He ran out of space in the kitchen and then noticed her standing out in the back yard, wind blowing her hair around. He slid open the patio door and walked out into the grass to stand behind her. "If you want me to leave, I will."

"No point to that," she replied. "I'd just have to go find you. It now being my duty and all."

"I'm not your responsibility. Christ, I'm forty-two, I can look after myself."

Vivian turned to him, and there were tears in her veridian eyes. "My father is right. I can't just... sit on the sidelines while those I love be decimated. I have to either fight or spend my life in hiding."

"You don't want either," he said with certainty. "You want the ocean, the arts."

"We knew each other for what? A month, and half that you were away, and even after the years we've been separated you just... get it in a way my father does not." She sighed heavily and returned to staring out at the waves. "I'm sorry. About earlier. My outburst," she shook her head. "This is not the life I wanted," she whispered. "We are hopelessly outnumbered, you know?"

"Yeah," Callen tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he rocked on his feet. "I'm pretty aware of that."

"They're after you. At least that's what my father said over the phone when he sent me to that building..." She turned to look back at the house. "So... Amy finally found you." He said nothing, finding himself tongue tied. "She was animate about it, finding you, protecting you, she said it was her job. Her mother had told her to watch over you, and when Clara died..."

"Your father was the one to bring Amy and I state-side."

Vivian nodded her head. "I can't give you any details on the how, I don't know myself. Was just bun in the oven at the time."

He smiled at her phrase and then frowned. "Must have been hard, going on the run, for your mom I mean, her being pregnant and all."

She gave a little shrug. "I think it would be, they also had a six year old, my brother Alex. He was murdered... another casualty in this damn blood feud. It's taken so much," she whispered before she looked over at him, the man she'd known as Blue Eyes. She couldn't help but frown, now before her stood one more person who she might have to put to rest.

::

Deeks, Kensi and Sam sat in a small living room with over plush couches.

"One hell of a day," Deeks commented to break the silence.

Kensi let out a sigh as she leaned back and propped her feet up on the table. "I wonder how Callen is doing."

"And Hunter, or... Amy I guess," Deeks said mulling it over. "Couldn't call her 'Callen' too. She didn't look so good on the drive over."

Kensi nodded. She hadn't been sure of Lauren Hunter, but had to give some respects now knowing her as Amy Callen. One hell of an emotional roller-coaster for all involved, but especially for her with Logan catching a bullet with his chest. She wondered what they were to one another, despite the argument they'd had it was obvious that the underlying reason was he wanted to protect her, to keep her safe.

And she'd gone lone-wolf on him. Kensi smiled. Reminded her of another Callen she knew.

"And that chick," Sam said nodding toward the back window where Callen and Vivian were standing side by side. "Who is she?"

"Vivia-"

"I know her name, Deeks," Sam responded in an irritable fashion. "But they seem to have known each other from _before_ all this. He never mentioned her."

"A guy is entitled to his private life," Deeks responded resting his elbows on his knees.

Sam disagreed. This was G Callen, his partner. G didn't have a private life. He had aliases, he had legends, and all of them were documented. G Callen didn't even own a bed. The man did not have a private life. He lived for his job. Sam looked back toward the window where Callen had put a friendly arm around the woman's shoulder. No way he'd do that with such ease if he hadn't known her from before, he wouldn't do that, not as himself at least. The woman's arm went around his waist and they stood there staring out at the ocean. Sam was certain, G Callen and Vivian Piascovschi had known each other before today.

But did that make her an ally, as her family name indicated, or an blinding enemy?

::

Hunter was exhausted, physically, emotionally. Her tears had run dry and she still held tightly to the comfort of Nicoleta who was murmuring reassurances. "Do you need to talk?"

No, yes... maybe. She bit her bottom lip and chewed on it silently for a moment. "Boian..." Nicoleta stiffened and moved back to see the younger woman's face, obviously it wasn't how Nicoleta thought this conversation would start. "You've... you've moved across the world for him, for me, for baby brother, I just... why? Why did you leave your home?"

"Boian was duty bound, I love him for his loyalty, amongst other things of course, but it's always been admirable. Besides, how could I allow two children to be slaughtered if I could prevent it."

"Boian could have gone, on his own, taken us. Why did you leave, why did you risk Alex, risk Vivian when she was yet to be born?"

"I love him."

That was the answer Hunter had expected, perhaps had wanted. "When did you know? That you loved him?"

The confusion on Nicoleta's face solidified the fact that this was not even remotely the conversation she had thought was coming. Then again, Amy had always surprised her. "Well... we knew each other since we were very young. Teenagers. He was sixteen, and I was fourteen when my family moved in next to his. He was... annoying." Hunter smiled and Nicoleta smiled back. "But... there was just something about him, he was interesting, funny, moody on occasion, the deep brooding sort... maybe I loved him from the get-go, maybe I just didn't understand that at fourteen. We grew up together, and the older the we got, the more attached we got. I was shattered when he had to go away for college and I had to stay behind in high-school, we best friends."

"But he came back."

"Yes," Nicoleta smiled. "Yes, he did. Every weekend, and once a month he'd take me to dinner. My prom night, I didn't have a date, I had asked him to go 'as a friend' and he'd said no. He showed up though, at my door with the most lovely corsage. Told me he'd go as my 'boyfriend' but he wouldn't go as 'just a friend.'" Nicoleta laughed. "It was as if the final piece of a puzzle for me finally slipped into place. I love him, always have I think." She soothed a hand over Hunter's dark hair. "So is this line of questioning about him?" Nicoleta pointed to the man on her couch.

Hunter chewed on the inside of her cheek a second before nodding. "I think I knew too. I just didn't recognize it."

Nicoleta smiled. "He will be fine."

"He's annoying," Hunter replied.

Nicoleta laughed. "Most men are, my dear."

"He tried to protect me," Hunter felt tears she thought she'd cried out prick her eyes. "He knew something was wrong, he gave me his secrets, he spread open his soul to me and it didn't change anything, I still went to that roof and I knew, _I knew _that he'd follow me. I did this. This is my fault, Nia," Hunter reverted to the affectionate nickname she'd taken to calling Nicoleta in her youth, it felt as if it would be disrespectful to her birth mother, who's memory she still adored to call Nicoleta 'mom' but still, there was something there between them. "It is my fault he is hurt."

"I think even knowing how this ends for him, he would follow you again," Nicoleta responded with absolute certainty. "It's what men in love do."

::

Nicoleta was joined in the kitchen by Hetty. "Figured there are lots of hungry stomaches out there," Nicoleta said breaking the silence.

"You could have contacted me," Hetty responded, a certain tremor of emotion giving away not only her anger, but the pain that came with the secret. "Told me that Amy was alive."

Nicoleta set down the knife she had been using to chop vegetables. "No I could not," she responded turning to stare down at the smaller woman. "The fewer people who knew of Amy the better. It was only Boian, Vivian and myself who knew... and back then Vivian had no idea of the war that went with the name. Amy was safe with us, for a time, and then she found her own path."

"Back to the war."

The blonde haired woman shrugged and sighed. "She wanted to protect her little brother. She always had. As Boian was duty bound to help the Callen children, Amy was bound by the blood of family, of a promise she made long ago to her mother. I always knew, eventually, she would find her way back to him, and she would make good on the promise she made to Clara to watch out for him, to protect him."

"I feel as though I've failed them both," Hetty admitted with a sigh. "They're both still fighting."

"Oh Hetta," Nicoleta responded to her old friend. "We have not failed them, perhaps this is not the life we would want them to have, but they are still _alive_, and that is a glorious success."

::

The dinner table was extended and everyone sat around in mismatched chairs, some were wood from the table set, others were black folding chairs there still wasn't enough, so Kensi was sharing a seat with Deeks both half on the seat, half off, wiggling and fighting for room, bumping elbows as they tried to eat their dinners, Nicoleta was perched gracefully on one of Boian's legs and that made up for the few chairs short.

Callen looked around. "Where is Amy?"

Nicoleta sighed. "Sitting vigil over Logan."

Callen went to stand, intent on getting her but Nicoleta motioned him to sit back down. "She won't leave him. She is where she needs to be."

Callen had paused half way between sitting and standing. "I'll just bring her a plate then," he responded loading it up, unsure of what she liked or disliked so he got some of everything, grabbed utensils and left not noticing the big smile on Nicoleta's face.

He found her in the large sitting room. For how small the house had looked on the outside, it seemed much bigger inside. His sister was sitting on the coffee table staring down at Logan, and he studied the profile of her face. Her eyes were red, puffy, she'd been crying, her nose was a little pink. She ran her hand through her long dark hair now free of an elastic and it danced back and forth.

"Hey," he said catching her attention. Considering everything she should have heard him... then again, she likely felt safe enough there to let her guard down.

"_Baby brother_," she whispered as if lost in memories. "What is it? _Is something wrong_?" She asked as she switched from Romanian to English and back again and as far as he could tell, it wasn't intentional.

"Nothing's wrong," he replied walking over and taking a seat on the coffee table where Nicoleta had sat hours ago. He pushed the plate over to her lap. "You need to eat," he said not asking if she was hungry.

"You're bossy."

"So are you," he responded. "Maybe that's where I get it from." At this, he watched her smile as she stared down at the plate. "Who is he?"

"Logan Cole."

"I know his name," Callen responded a tad testily. She was dodging the question. "Who is he to you?"

"Not quite sure yet. He's important. He's done so much for me in the short time we've known each other." She stabbed a twisting noodle on her fork and took a bit to stall some time, she chewed and smiled. Nicoleta hadn't lost her culinary touch. "I knew it was going to be bad when I went up to that rooftop."

Callen turned to stare at her, she was still looking down at her plate her breathing had changed though, subtle but it was like she'd run down the street, a little breathless.

"I should have been dead, Grigore," she looked up a him and then to the patches of gauze around Logan. "He tackled me out of the way, got me to cover... it's how he got that bullet graze on his arm. He got it protecting me." She sucked in a shaky breath. "He wouldn't have been on that rooftop if it wasn't for me, he wouldn't have been shot."

"He's going to be okay."

"For how long?" She stared at him, her blue eyes intense and unwavering. "If he's around me he'll become a casualty. Everyone does."

"Boian is still here, Nicoleta, Vivian. Me."

Hunter pushed some of the food on her plate around. "How do you know Viv anyways? You guys recognized one another on the roof-top."

"Back... oh, three years ago or so, we met. She had this little arts booth on Venice beach where I was living at the time. We spoke every once in a while." Callen grazed over what they had shared... which was basically nothing, but still, he felt more of a connection to her than he did with anyone outside of his team. Maybe because there were no lies, sure, they didn't talk about things personal, but they didn't outright make things up and lie to one another. He was Blue Eyes and she was Venice and that was enough.

Hunter smiled, and there was a playful glint in her eyes. "Should I ask her what her intentions are with my brother?"

"What? It's not like that."

"M-hmm."

"I mean it. We're just... we were..."

"I asked Sam earlier where Vivian was. He said he saw the two of you out by the ocean."

"Sam is such a gossip!"

Hunter let out a quick, quiet laugh. "So it's not like that?" Callen waited a beat too long before shaking his head. "Yeah. I believe you," Hunter said sarcastically. "She's gorgeous. Can't blame you."

"I remember this one time," Callen responded and Hunter turned to him interested. They hadn't had much time together but Callen figured if he wanted this family tie he'd have to work at it. "I went looking for her, but her booth was all packed up, but I saw her. She was on the beach, barefoot in the sand. There was a group of musicians, drums, guitar, this feverish beat. And there she was amongst the dancers that had gathered around. Spinning and dancing... she was just... _alive. _You know what I mean?"

Hunter nodded. "Yeah. I know. Made me want to protect her more when we were growing up. She just... loved so freely. Found beauty in every moment. I didn't want that ruined for her..."

"As it was for us."

"Yeah," Hunter responded on a sigh. "I haven't had a chance to talk to her really since the roof... and before that decades. God... I'm old."

Callen smiled. "Yep."

"Hey," she nudged him with her shoulder. "You're only a few years behind me."

He laughed and put an arm around her shoulder. "Yeah, but you'll always be older."

The door from the kitchen opened and they both turned back. Vivian walked over with a plate. "You need to eat too," she handed it to Callen and he took it gratefully. "And Kensi thanks you for your seat."

"Viv," Hunter called to her before she could walk away, the woman turned back. "Thank you... I know you never wanted any part of this life... but thank you for coming when you did. I don't know what would have happened if you weren't there."

Vivian shuddered just slightly. She did. That man she shot would have instead killed the woman she had long considered a sister, and then she was quite certain that Grigore Callen, her Blue Eyes, would have met a gruesome fate.

"I'm in," Vivian said, her voice strong, sharp but held no happiness. "From now on, I'm in. This war has taken too much from me... I won't let it take anyone else. Not without a fight."

::

**Thanks for reading!**


	22. Chapter Nineteen

**AN: Another slower chapter because I'm going to be gone next week- so no updates- and I didn't want to leave you guys hanging in the middle of some horrific cliffhanger. Enjoy :)**

::

Hunter found Vivian in one of the spare rooms, she left Logan under the watchful eyes of Nicoleta who was changing his bandages.

Lauren Hunter, AKA Amy Callen stood in the doorway in the middle of a growing identity crisis. She was pulled this way and that. Was she the hardened agent who'd brought herself up the ranks under a legend. Was she Amy Callen a... what was Amy Callen? Who was she? Was it but a name? Was it the innocence she lost... or was it the cold woman she'd become. Her head ached just thinking about it.

She stayed quiet as she stared at the woman she'd grown up with. From the age of eleven to the age of eighteen they had told each other their deepest secrets, their wishes, their dreams. At eighteen Hunter had left the security of the Piascovschi family because she was grown, and there was something more important than her wishes, her dreams.

Her life would never be that simple life she wanted. She'd been born with the wrong last name, and from that, she lost everything before she ever even had it. Perhaps that was better, that she didn't know. Then again, there were days where the longing left her twisted and hopeless.

"I understand," Vivian said and Hunter came back to herself. Vivian was sitting at a vanity brushing out her long blonde hair. "Why you left," she continued their eyes meeting in the mirror. "I get it... but I was so angry with you, Amy."

Hunter took a step in and shut the door behind her, she felt as if this was a conversation they needed to have, and one that was best kept private. Hunter hadn't seen Vivian in twenty six years, that was a lot of time and space between them... and yet... Hunter stepped behind the woman she had considered a little sister and placed her hand over Vivian's taking the brush from her hand and Hunter resumed brushing the silky locks.

"I know it doesn't make any difference... but I'm sorry I hurt you when I left."

"You were my sister. My best friend. We shared everything or at least... I thought we did."

Hunter heard the pain in Vivian's voice, and Boian had already told her of just how much Vivian had already lost to the war... because the Piascovschi family had chosen to ally themselves with the Callen family.

"Boian told me... what happened... to Alex and to Toby."

"What did he tell you," her voice was ruined with the emotion and it had Hunter's heart clenching empathetically.

"That they died, that the war took them."

Vivian's laugh was cold and bitter. "That's a nice way to put it."

Hunter continued to carefully brush Vivian's hair. "What happened Vivi?" She asked in no more than a whisper.

"They would not let me see Alex," Vivian replied. "Whatever was done to him was cruel, brutal. Father wouldn't let me say goodbye."

"And Toby?"

"Was killed because I loved him," Vivian's voice was weak and Hunter could hear the overwhelming sadness. "They... they flayed off bits of his flesh, ripped is fingernails out." Her breathing edged closer to hyperventilation.

Hunter set the hairbrush down on the vanity table and sat on the little bench with Vivian putting her arm over the younger woman's shaking shoulders. Vivian turned into her and tears seeped through the fabric of her t-shirt. "Shh," Hunter comforted as she held the woman close. "I'm so sorry."

"Eight," Vivian managed to sob out.

"Eight?" Hunter didn't understand.

"Stab wounds. Eight. One for every year Toby was _with me. _He suffered because of _me_. He died because he loved _me_."

There weren't words that could comfort. There was nothing that could be said to reverse time and save the man Vivian had lost. With nothing that could be said, and nothing that could be done Hunter did the only thing she could, and held her sobbing sister in her arms.

::

"How is he?" Callen asked Nicoleta as she cleaned up the medical supplies.

"Better than could be expected. He's got a bit of fever but it's too early to tell if it's the beginning of an infection and if so, then we've got problems... This isn't a hospital, I've done all I can."

Callen nodded. "Thank you. I don't think I'll ever fully understand how much you and Boian sacrificed for Amy and I... I just... I guess I really feel like I need to thank you."

Nicoleta smiled. "Innocence is to be protected. Evil is to be fought against. The decision was easy."

"So... Amy, she stayed with you and Boian."

Nicoleta nodded and took a seat across the room on one of the chairs and motioned for Callen to join her, he took a seat on a small couch. "She did," Nicoleta nodded. "She'd been through so much, at the age of eleven we asked of her to fake her own death. To slip into the ocean and be able to swim a long way... I met her at the water's edge, she was exhausted, the swim with all of her clothing on, she was shivering from the cold. I picked her up and she fell asleep in my arms before I even got her to the car." Nicoleta sighed. "She got sick after that, all those hours in the unforgiving cold- it wasn't a surprise. I just... I couldn't send her away again. She was a child, and yet we'd asked her to fake her own death and she had. She grew up remembering, knowing that it all could be taken away, and would be... I think when Boian had come to her, she'd been waiting for it... and for that I will always believe this life has failed her. She started making adult decisions when she was still a child." Nicoleta looked over at the man before her. "Somehow, I think that every one of those decisions she made... was to bring her back to you."

::

They sat cross-legged on the bed facing one another and it was as though they'd gone back in time to their youth's spent telling each other their secrets.

"So... after Toby..."

"Na," Vivian shook her head. "There wasn't anyone."

"Blue eyes?"

Vivian flushed just slightly and Hunter had to laugh. "I maybe had a bit of a crush on him."

"Maybe? Had? You did, and you do."

Vivian flicked her hand back and forth as if the words were flies. "I hardly know him," she argued. "Besides, I know just what this war is willing to take."

"He's already on the hit list," Hunter replied and frowned.

"Yeah, that doesn't exactly make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I don't want to go through that again, Ames. I just... I loved Toby... and I lost him... and I don't, I_ can't _do that again."

"Living alone is not the answer."

Vivian shrugged her shoulders. "That decision is mine. And what about you and Logan?"

"Wh-aat?"

Vivian tilted her head forward a bit, raised an eyebrow and smirked, she might have aged but the look was the same and it clearly showed Vivian's disbelief.

"Okay so... I...well...I mean..." Hunter stopped talking at risk of continuing to sound like a love-struck moron.

Vivian tossed her head back and laughed. "Oh, gosh! Ames, you've got it bad for that man."

There was a gentle tap on the door and it pushed open. Nicoleta stuck her head in and smiled at her two girls sitting on the bed much like the would far after lights out in their early years. "Logan appears to be waking," Nicoleta said her eyes lingering on Hunter. "I thought you'd want to know."

"Thanks," Hunter nearly tripped in her effort to get up and her feet were asleep from sitting in such a position for such a long time. Vivian was absolutely no help as she straightened her legs out on the bed and laughed.

::

The livingroom had been vacated and she felt as though everyone was giving her a moment with him alone. She was grateful. She sat on the coffee table and took his hand in both of hers. He grimaced, shifted a bit but his eyes stayed closed.

Part of her wished to poke, see if he'd wake but she felt it would be too cruel considering all he'd been through. He wouldn't have been on that rooftop, wouldn't have been shot if it wasn't for her.

His dark eyes opened and his jaw tightened. "Did I get shot?"

"Yeah," she replied. "You're going to be okay." _I think. _

He was still for a moment and then he turned his head toward her. "Where are we?"

"You remember Boian?"

"Yeah."

"His place. His wife, Nicoleta dug the slug out of you."

He grimaced as he shifted trying to get comfortable. "Don't call bullets slugs. The only thing worse right now than the thought of lead in me is the thought of a _slug_."

He made a face and she couldn't help but smile. "I'm glad you're awake."

His free hand moved up to where the gauze that covered the bullets entrance wound. "It is better than the alternative," he agreed as he made a move to sit up.

Her hand shot out and went to his uninjured shoulder. "You should rest, if you need anything, I can get it for you," she spoke so quickly she nearly tripped over her words.

He stared at her for a moment, his lips curving in the smallest of smiles. "Appreciate it," he responded. "But I have to take a leak, don't think you can do that for me."

She couldn't help but smile and shook her head. "No, I can't." He stood, wavered and she was at his side holding his upright in a second. "But I can give you something to lean on. Come on." She took on most of his weight as they slowly went through the living room and down the hall.

She waited outside the bathroom until he re-emerged and then they slowly did the return trip together.

She had him sitting on the sectional and draped a blanket over him, his jeans had a bit of dirt and blood from the firefight, and he was shirtless, bare but for the gauze. Hunter decided to continue sitting on the coffee table instead of joining him on the sectional. "Want something for the pain?" she asked.

He shook his head and leaned his head back over the back of the sofa. "What now, Amy?"

"Well..." she started and then faltered. "Not sure. Quinn is out there somewhere, by now she must know that her brother is dead. Finley wasn't among the dead, he must have left the rooftop before the end of it all. Mikhail is around somewhere in LA according to Boian." She let out a sigh, she was exhausted both emotionally and physically. "Got to take them out..."

"Doesn't end there though, does it?" He sat up and pushed aside the blanket and leaned toward her ignoring the pain. "There is still that original family, the Comescu family."

"Yeah. And the Fairchild family is going to be... irate when the find out what happened to Alistair... and the other three because they are going down."

He took one of her dainty hands in his. "Why not just... run?"

"I've spent my entire life living in shadows, changing my name, slipping in and out of aliases. It isn't a life, Logan. If I run, I'll spend my life looking over my shoulders." She pulled her hand back. "Vivian tried to have a normal life and they took the man she loved." She frowned. "Only thing worse than not allowing yourself to have someone is to lose them," she whispered.

"Hmm," was his only response.

"There is a bed made up," Hunter said. "Come on, I'll take you to it. You're injured. You shouldn't be sleeping on the couch."

"I've been out for hours."

"Your body is healing," Hunter argued. "Come on." She helped him to his feet his body radiating heat, perhaps a bit too much. Nicoleta had warned her of fever. She got him laying down in one of the guest rooms, covered him with blankets, got a glass of water and placed it on the nightstand. She fussed around the room for a bit.

"Sit. You're making me dizzy with all that pacing."

She looked over her shoulder at him. Despite being injured he still appeared to be a force to be reckon with. She walked over and sat on the bedside.

"It's quiet," he muttered.

"Nicoleta, Vivi, and Boian have gone to bed. Sam, Kensi, Deeks, and Hetty went home. Grigore is staying here," and she was profusely grateful. She couldn't take much more to be worrying about. "He and I will talk in the morning... figure this thing out. As much as I want to keep him out of it... I just... I can't think of how to protect him from this any longer."

"Well..." his hand rested on her knee. "I'm here for whatever you need."

"No," she shook her head. "I'll talk to Harris. Your debt is clear."

"I figure my debt was clear a few bodies ago," Logan argued. "I haven't stayed because I felt he was owed."

She looked down at him, brushed aside some of his dark long hair. "I ditch you some place and you'll just find me, if only to give me an earful, wouldn't you?"

He smirked. "See, you're starting to catch on."

"Smart-ass."

"Better than being a dumb-ass."

"Hey!"

He laughed. "Didn't say I was talking about you."

She loved his laugh, and couldn't help but join him in it.

"Where are you sleeping?" he asked.

"With Viv, isn't the first time we've shared a little twin bed. " Although it would be considerably more uncomfortable now as adults.

He was resting easy in a double. "Stay. Hardly fair to wake the woman."

"Wha- no."

"Yeah," he responded. "Besides, you can't really leave me all injured and helpless."

"Injured, I'll give you, but you don't strike me as helpless."

"You had to walk me to the bathroom," he said raising an eyebrow. "What if I feel sick in the middle of the night? What then?"

She shook her head but couldn't wipe the grin off her face. "You can be a real pain in the ass, you know that?"

He gave the slightest of shrugs and grimaced with the pain the shrug brought. He moved over slightly and she laid down next to him. She reached over and flicked off the table light. In the silence they laid side by side staring into the darkness, and in that darkness his hand found hers and her fingers interlocked with his. Neither said a word, they both just shut their eyes and allowed the day to slip away.

::

**Thanks for reading :)**


	23. Chapter Twenty

**So, it's December- with the upcoming holidays and the madness that is the festive season if I miss an update- my apologies in advance. **

::

Lauren Hunter had one thing on her mind now that she was freshly showered and dressed for the day. Coffee. On her way to the kitchen she poked her head back into the guest room she'd shared the previous night. Logan was still asleep, the light behind the light blue curtains gave the room a dreamy glow, his head was turned toward where she'd been sleeping so she got to study his sharp profile, the stubble on his face, the wild dark hair. His chest was bare but for the gauze and he seemed to have kicked down the blankets in his sleep from how they were tangled around his feet. He curled up slightly on his side like he was trying to keep warm and a shudder ran through his long muscular frame.

Careful not to wake him, she stepped into the room and untangled the blankets so she could pull them up over his shoulder. She stood there a moment watching him sleep. Yesterday, she'd come very close to losing another person she _lov-cared for_ she quickly corrected in her head, and wondered when she became such a crappy liar, it didn't even sound right in her head. And if she couldn't admit it in her head then where? Okay, so she was a little smitten with him, and maybe she was a little bit in love- or at least of what she knew of love- she didn't have much of a base line to judge from. Not to say she hadn't had boyfriends before, but they were mostly a means to an end, help for a cover to seem normal, or to just simply be company when she felt intensely alone... but ultimately she felt little. Sure, she cared about their well being, wished them well when she left, but they just... didn't fit.

Of course it would be Logan that would have her all twisted up. The man was irritating, he got under her skin, infected her thoughts and for the life of her she couldn't figure out why she found any of that intriguing. She should push him away, but for the first time in her life, she wanted to pull a man closer, wanted to make him as tangled up in her as she was in him.

She left him sleeping, shutting the door near silently behind her. The scent of coffee wafted from the kitchen and her mind returned to it's initial goal. She followed the intoxicating scent and found Callen in the kitchen with a mug of his own staring out the back glass door at the ocean.

He heard her and turned, their blue eyes meeting and assessing one another.

"Good morning... Amy," he tested the name again on his tongue, it was hard to call her that considering how long he had known her as Lauren Hunter. He figured though that outside of the house, he should still call her by 'Hunter' for safety's sake. Last thing they needed was for the Comescu family to find out that she, the true Amy Callen, was still alive and well. He watched as a smile came upon her face, true and happy. In the back of his mind he could see the little girl she had once been, a big smile on her face before she said something but it was white noise in his head, the memory faded, damaged by age.

"Good morning, Grigore," she responded unable to get the smile off of her face. How long had it been since she'd enjoyed a simple morning greeting with family? It made her feel warm, cared for.

"God, I can't get use to that," Callen said before taking a sip of his steaming hot coffee. "Grigore," he said trying to get use to the name. Hunter laughed and shook her head.

She knew where everything was, Nicoleta hadn't changed the set up since she'd been gone. Mug was in the far cabinet, the sugar dish was on the little curved corner shelves between the cabinet and the window frame over the sink. She filled her mug, put in a few tea spoons of sugar and stirred a few times clockwise and then a few times counterclockwise out of an old habit. She put the sugar back on the little shelf and took a testing sip, and letting out a content sigh.

"It looks nice out," Hunter said opening the door to the deck and stepping out.

Since she left the door open, Callen assumed she wanted him to follow. He stepped out in his sock feet and shut the door behind himself. She took a seat at the small black iron table and chair set, and he took the second chair.

The breeze was gentle and brought the scent of the ocean with it. The gulls were squawking but most of their noises were drowned out by the sound of the soothing gentle waves crashing to shore. The sky was a pretty blue, not a cloud disgracing it's smooth colouring. The sun was already warming the air and it looked like it would be an absolutely beautiful day, and somehow that made it all that much worse. It seemed to beautiful for the talk that they needed to have.

"We need a game plan, _baby brother_," Hunter with out thinking switched to Romanian and used the old sweet moniker.

He nodded and turned away from the ocean and got into the zone. He set his coffee mug down on the table and faced his sister. "We still have Quinn- and she's going to be vengeful."

Hunter nodded as she faced her brother. She took a sip of her coffee, yes vengeful would definitely be the word. "Finley is a desperate degenerate, and that makes him dangerous."

"And Mikhail?" Callen questioned before he took a sip of his cooling coffee. "What do you know about him?"

"Little. I know that he's got a temper, and is extremely dangerous in hand-to-hand combat. If you can take him down from a distance- do it. I have a contact, Ambrose Conway- he's a hacker who holds a grudge. Mikhail beat his brother to death in a bar fight. I'll give Ambrose a call a little later, see if he won't patch me in on some intel."

"Even if we do rid ourselves of the Fairchild problem, they're a symptom, not the disease."

Hunter nodded her head. "I know. Let me worry on the Comescus."

Callen shook his head. "I'm your brother, but damn it Amy, you don't have to protect me! We do this together."

"No," Hunter argued. "This one falls squarely in my lap. There is nothing you can do in this case. They want you dead."

"I've walked right into their compound before."

"This will require more finesse."

He stared at her, the cunning in her blue eyes. "You already have a plan."

"I have a vague outline, but first, the Fairchild's must be dealt with."

"What are you planning, Amy?"

Hunter took a deep steadying breath and bought herself some time by picking up her mug and taking a few sips. "I'm planning on ending this mess. Once and for all."

::

"Ma! Where are the keys?" The house was alive by noon. Vivian was dressed in black skinny jeans, a black t-shirt, her hair was pulled into a ponytail, the straight hair falling to just above her pant line. "Ma!" She called again.

Nicoleta grabbed the keys from a little dish that held some loose change and a couple of coupons and threw it at her daughter.

Vivian caught it one handed. "Anyone want to add something to the list before I go?"

"Oh, tea- loose leaf," Nicoleta said.

Vivian rolled her eyes but added it to the piece of paper.

"Pork chops are on sale," Boian noted.

Vivian added that too to her list.

"Chocolate chip cookies," Hunter requested and Vivian shot her a withering look.

"Seriously, you guys keep adding things and I'll need another sheet of paper, how in a list this long can you even think of more, it's like I'm going out to buy the entire damn store."

"Oh, we're out of Mr Clean, the orange scented one," Nicoleta said. "And tooth paste, get the cinnamon kind."

Vivian stared at her mother and rolled her eyes. "I don't even know if you're messing with me or not."

"I'm not," Nicoleta responded, she wore a plain white long sleeved shirt, black boot cut jeans, simple and nondescript. "Did you write it down?"

"Yes, mom!" Vivian slipped on a pair of black booties and did up the tiny side zippers. She grabbed her pre-paid from the table and slipped it into her purse. "I'm getting the heck out of here before anyone thinks of anything else!" She slipped through the door and it shut behind her.

Nicoleta sighed looking at the door before turning to the living room full of people. Sam, Deeks, Kensi and Hetty had returned and they'd brought with them a petite intelligence analyst named Nell and a technical operator named Eric. Obviously Grigore Callen had built a family, inspired loyalty from these friends, not that he appeared to be happy about it. Callen seemed at ill at ease with his friends there. He didn't want them involved and Nicoleta could understand that, but it changed nothing, they were there and by the looks of things, they weren't going anywhere.

"Where is Amy?" Nicoleta asked.

"She slipped down the hallway a few minutes ago," Boian noted. "Likely went to check on that Logan boy."

::

He'd been awake when she'd come in so she couldn't just slip back out of the room. "How are you feeling?" she asked softly taking a seat on the side of the bed. He simply looked at her and she could see the pain in his eyes. "I'll get you some pain killers," she said standing but he grabbed her arm quickly.

"Sit."

She blinked, he had quite the grip despite his weakened state. She very slowly sat back down. "What is it?"

He was quiet for a while and she figured he wasn't going to answer the question, his thumb was tracing lazy circles on her wrist. "What are you going to do?"

She chewed the inside of her cheek. "To start, I'm going to call a contact of mine. Ambrose Conway... if anyone will risk the wrath of this war to hunt down Mikhail, it's him. Mikhail beat his brother to death. Ambrose is a hacker... with any luck he'll be able to give me something to go on."

"And Finley and Quinn?" Logan asked as he slowly sat up, his face pinching in pain but his hand on her wrist never tightened.

She took in a deep breath and then slowly let it out. She pursed her lips as she mulled it over. "I'm running out of favours. I'm in debt with Harris..."

"What?"

"What do you mean, what?"

"You've got this," he gestured to her face with his hand. "I'm planning something face on."

"That so?"

"Yeah. And every time I've seen it, you go out and do something stupid."

"Wow, way to sugar coat it."

"You know me, honey, I don't sugar coat anything."

Her bright blue eyes met his dark ones and she swallowed hard. "Finley... had to have been called up by Nicholas since they ambushed us on the rooftop."

"Don't blame them for our stupidity," Logan said cooly. "We both knew that something was wrong when we were walking up those stairs. If you're going to survive this, you need to be a hell of a lot smarter than that."

She didn't like it, but he was right. She felt the urge to cross her arms over her chest but his hand was grounding her, his thumb still tracing small circles and it gave her goosebumps.

"Point is," she decided it was best to leave his comment unanswered. "If we search Nicholas's place we might find something, anything on Finley."

"And what about Quinn?"

"She's tricky. We have the license plates for the cars she and Alistair had rented- who knows if they're still in use but I'm going to have Eric and Nell keep running them. We don't have anything else to go by. Don't worry," She said dryly. "I'll try not to do anything stupid."

His hand finally left her wrist but it caressed the her temple fingertips threading through her hair, their eyes locked. "Try real hard."

"Smart-ass," she whispered unable to break his hypnotic gaze.

He just smirked, but there was exhaustion in his eyes. She pressed a hand to his shoulder. "Lay back, get some rest."

"I've been resting."

"Well, that's what happens when you get shot. Now get some rest and get better, okay?"

He seemed torn, his eyes flicking away from hers to look at her lips and then his eyes came back up. "Yeah, okay," he agreed.

She nodded and stood, leaving the room feeling a little weak in the knees.

::

"So," Sam asked leaning against he wall with his arms crossed over his chest. "Do we have a plan?"

"Pizza delivery," Callen said looking at Deeks with a grin.

"That's typecasting," Deeks said shooting a look of ire Callen's way. "And rude."

"Deal with it," was Callen's response. "You'll go to Nicholas Williams, look for anything out of the ordinary. Kensi, back him up."

"You got it," Kensi replied with a sharp nod. "Come on, Shaggy, we got to get you in uniform."

"Women do love a man in uniform," Deeks said.

"No," Kensi replied with a laugh. "We love men with jobs!"

Deeks laughed and shook his head as he followed her out of the ocean side house.

"Eric, do you have anything on the cars?" Callen asked.

"Kaleidoscope is getting a big nadda," Eric replied with an apologetic shrug. "Sorry."

"Quinn is highly intelligent," Hunter said. "She has to know her brother is dead by now or at the very least believe something has happened to him. She's not going to make this easy."

"You know much else about her?" Callen asked.

Hunter gave a shake of her head. "Most of what I know came from contact I had."

"Any chance of reaching out to this contact?" Hetty asked. "Might just have more information for us."

Hunter shifted and shook her head again. "She's dead." The bodies just kept falling and it was getting to the point where she could drown in the blood spilled around her.

"What shall we do about Mikhail?" Boian asked.

"I have a contact," Hunter responded. "I'll set up a meet."

"Can this contact be trusted?" Nicoleta asked, a worried expression on her face that just looked so motherly to Hunter.

"Yes, Nia," Hunter responded. "He has a vested interest in insuring that Mikhail ends up six feet under."

"Set it up," Callen said. "I'll go with you."

Hunter may not have liked it, but she nodded accepting the fact that she could no longer keep him out of this. She grabbed her pre-paid and went to the kitchen for some silence as she made the call.

::

**Thanks for reading :)**


	24. Chapter Twenty One

Callen was the one behind the wheel as he and his sister drove toward Ambrose Conway. He had insisted that they meet in a park instead of at his home. "Do you really think this guy can give us something Nell or Eric can't?" Callen asked. He slammed on the brakes, honked on the horn and gave the finger to the car that had just cut him off while muttering profanities under his breath.

Hunter smirked, her brother fell victim to road rage and for some reason it nearly made her laugh. "Don't get me wrong, I think Miss Jones and Mr Beale are exceptional at their job, Grigore." She ran her hand through her long dark hair. "But... Ambrose is determined... and less likely to pay mind to legal red tape."

Callen smirked but said nothing. Nell and Eric were known for tip toeing gracefully on both sides of legal. They did what was needed to get the job done and expected Hetty to be able to protect them when they leaned a little too far.

"Anything I should know about this guy?" Callen asked as he pulled in to the parking lot.

Hunter considered the question in silence for a moment as he backed his black Jaguar between a soccer mom van and a beat up old truck. "He's good with knives, and don't try playing him in poker," she responded clicking her seat belt release. She turned in her seat to look through the back window. "That's him, the bench by the garden."

Callen gave a sharp nod and they both stepped out of the vehicle. He kept his eyes moving around the area, taking in the scene. There was a horde of small children, their exhausted mother trying to keep up. A couple of what looked to be photography students climbing on the equipment taking shots from different angles. An elderly couple walked hand in hand and he caught his sister staring at them. "Someone you know?"

"Huh?" her head turned back to him so quickly he swore he heard something pop. "Know...no, no I don't."

He raised an eyebrow in silent question and she gave her head a quick but stern shake. They didn't have the time for idle chit-chat right now. They had pressing matters to attend to.

Hunter walked with purpose and stood before Ambrose Conway. He looked up from his newspaper and nodded his head. "Take a seat." She took a cursory look around and then sat down beside him, Callen stood with his arms folded. "You're going after Mikhail."

"Statement, not a question," Hunter responded her eyes scanning the area, ever vigilant against threats. "Don't waste my time with a fishing game. Yes, I'm after Mikhail. Can you find him?"

"Already did."

"Did you..."

"No," Ambrose responded looking over at Callen. "You must be the brother."

Hunter turned quickly, her knee was against Ambose's groin and her dainty hand was wrapped around his throat. "Watch it," she growled and put a little pressure on the man. Ambrose groaned, his face contorted with a grimace of pain and she quickly moved to sit back down. "Where is Mikhail."

Ambrose tabbed down a page of the newspaper before shutting it and handing it to her. "How about them Lakers?" He stood and then turned back to her. "Put some lead in that bastard for me, okay?"

Hunter just stared and Ambrose walked away, Callen took the vacated seat next to his sister as she opened the paper flipping to the page that was dog-eared. Callen pointed in the margin. "Address. Lets go," he moved to stand but lost his momentum and fell back into the seat when Hunter grabbed his arm and pulled him back. "What?"

"I should go alone."

"I thought we were past this crap, Amy."

It was the use of her name, her real name that had tears welling in her eyes even though she couldn't really find a reason for them. She turned away embarrassed by the display of emotion and was surprised by the arm around her shoulder a second later.

"You're not alone anymore. You don't have to keep trying to protect me."

"You can still have your normal life," she managed to get out without the words getting jumbled up in emotions, though her voice sounded tense and thin. "This isn't an agent going after a suspect. This is someone going after another for vengeance," her voice dropped lower, quieter, barely more than breath. "It's murder, G." She shook her head and tried her best to keep it together. "I want more for you than this life. I've spent so long trying to keep you out of it, that allowing you go against your agent training, allowing you to go out and do this... I feel like I've failed you... that I've let our mother down. My one job has been to protect you."

"And who's job do you think it was to protect his sister?" he asked quietly, vague memories in black and white. His mother smiling, the toy soldier, Amy and the wagon. "I didn't have to be asked, it's just what... it's what family does."

That did her in. That kind of blatant sentiment from the last bit of biological family she had left. She leaned against his shoulder and just this once allowed him to be there for her.

::

Deeks was decked out in black jeans that were lose and showed an inch of his boxers. He blamed Kensi. His top was a vibrant red collared cotton t-shirt from a local pizza shop. His mop of blond hair was partially obscured by the red baseball cap. He had a medium peperoni pizza in a thermo-bag that he was looking forward to getting to eat once this rouse was done and over with.

He and Kensi stood in the little entrance area as she scanned the names ignoring all the ones that started with 'Miss' or 'Mrs' and looking for all the single 'Mr's." She dialled the first one and waited, no answer. She dialled the second. "Hello?"

"Hi," Kensi's voice was soft and breathless. "Thank goodness, I was thinking no one was around this time of day. I'm hoping you can help me Mr..." her eyes went back to the name list for a second. "Glazic... I've left my keys in my apartment and can't get in. Think you could be neighbourly and buzz me?"

"I can do you one better sweetheart, I'll come get the door for you."

"Oh I don't want to put you out," Kensi said quickly but there had already been the 'click' of disconnection. Deeks smirked a bit and Kensi shook her head. "Not a word, Deeks."

Mr Glazic appeared to be in his sixties, had a really bad toupe that didn't match the colour of the rest of his hair. "My, my, how have I missed someone as beautiful as you?" While the old man chatted up Kensi Deeks snuck through the closing door.

He walked through the building not getting any second glaces from the tenants with the except for one little old lady he'd held the door open for. She'd smiled at him and then frowned. "Young man, you need a belt, what is it with kids these days?"

He walked back to Nicholas Williams' apartment, he could hear Kensi giving Mr Glazic the slip in his ear piece. Eric had smartly brought ear pieces with him so the teams could stay in contact with one another. He looked down the hallway but there was no one around. He shifted a bit closer and placed his ear against the door, his eyebrows drawing down as he heard someone inside.

"Kens, we've got company inside," he said.

"You need me?" Kensi asked immediately.

"I'll let you know," Deeks responded. He knocked loudly. "Pizza delivery!" Gunfire had him dropping the pizza and getting down and to the side as splinters of wood flew everywhere. "Goddamn it!

"Deeks!" Kensi yelled and he felt like he was going deaf.

"Ear piece is on full, you don't have to yell," he responded with a touch of anger. He didn't enjoy getting shot at. There was a lull in the gunfire and he reached out to test the door but it was locked. He felt something wet on his cheek and he reached up to feel a splinter of wood was embedded. "Lovely," he muttered.

He spotted Kensi running down the hall, her badge displayed on her chest as she quickly yelled at everyone to go back into their apartments. "Deeks!" She sounded alarmed. "Your face."

"Watch how you end that statement, princess," he responded standing to his full height. He adjusted his grip on his gun and stared at her. They worked well together, they had this down to a fine art. She gave a sharp nod and he turned and kicked the door. It didn't budge.

Kensi snorted.

"Shut it," he responded as he gave it a second swift boot and this time the wood did splinter around the lock and Kensi went in first with him hot on her six. They quickly went through the apartment but there was no one there. The window was open, a breeze blowing cheap curtains around.

Both Kensi and Deeks looked out but there was normal foot traffic below, cars driving past, and the scent of a nearby Italian place. They both then turned back to the trashed apartment. Deeks let out a long sigh.

"This is going to be a long day," Kensi muttered and they got to work at processing, hoping beyond hope that whoever had been there hadn't taken the kind of information they were looking for.

::

Eric and Nell were both pacing, back and forth, back and forth going in opposite directions, passing each other in the middle. Frankly they were making Sam dizzy. Kensi had just called in and informed them that someone had been inside of Nicolas Williams' apartment.

"Could have been Mikhail," Eric said as he turned on his heel and started pacing back again.

"Or it could have been Quinn," Nell responded as they passed one another.

They both looked at one another and then a second later Eric was diving for his laptop and Nell was going for her tablet.

"I'll take the north streets," She said.

"I'll take the south," Eric responded

"What are you two talking about?" Sam asked. It seemed with this duo half of their conversations went completely unsaid and it left him very out of the loop. He was already up in the air over the fact that Callen had ordered him to sit tight so in the event that Eric and Nell found something, there would be an agent around to track down the lead.

"Cameras," the technical experts answered simultaneously. Nell walked her tablet over to where Eric was, her eyes never leaving it. She sat down on the couch directly beside her partner, just like they sat in the ops centre. The only time their eyes left their screens was to check the other's.

"Nell," Eric said and she leaned into him as she looked at his screen. "Hat, and scarf definately obscure."

"And he is purposely avoiding the camera angle. Can't make a facial recognition."

"Suspicious?"

"Definitely."

"My guess, Mikhail Fairchild."

"Height and weight appear to support your theory," Nell said studying the image. Her tablet made a little dinging sound and her eyes quickly returned to it as she stood to pace a bit more uncomfortable in the bright and spacious house. She missed the ops centre, it seemed so safe, secure there... the house by the ocean made her feel vulnerable.

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"An alert..." Nell chewed on her bottom lip.

"Nell?" Eric asked.

"It's an email that was sent to Callen... address is unknown."

"Unknown, how is that possible?" Sam asked.

"Not unknown as in we can't find out," Eric responded as he walked to Nell and stood behind her looking over her shoulder at her tablet. "Unknown as in not secure from Callen's contacts, nor is it an NCIS secure address."

"So someone just managed to get a hold of Callen's email address?" Sam asked anger boiling and a giving him a tension headache. "How?"

"Any number of ways, and none that we'd just be able to guess," Eric responded. "Open it."

"But... it's Callen's private NCIS email address," Nell responded shifting nervously in her little flats. "I know we look into other people all the time but... it's _Callen. _It feels like such a huge invasion of privacy."

"Here," Eric said carefully taking the tablet from her hand. "I'll deal with G."

"Eric," Nell whispered, there was still worry laced in her voice but the head tech ignored it.

"Here goes nothing," Eric accessed the email and all that was inside was a link to a video. His stomach did an uncomfortable flip.

"Well?" Sam asked as he flanked Eric on one side, Nell on the other, all three of them looking at the tablet.

"It's a link," Eric stated the obvious.

"Open it," Sam demanded.

Eric blew out a stressed breath. "Okay... here we go."

::

**Thanks for reading :)**


	25. Chapter Twenty Two

Callen and Hunter both sat in the car watching the decrepit brick building that had been spray painted in graffiti over and over again. They'd already been through the place. There had been a bedroll, a laptop, some food bags. Someone was obviously staying there. Mikhail Fairchild if Ambrose Conway was correct.

Hunter was restless. She hated waiting. In her mind she was still working out the details of how to get rid of the Comescu problem. She was confident she could end it all... but... it wouldn't be easy, and she wasn't sure if she'd be coming back. She looked over at her brother, Grigore Callen unwrapping yet another Tootsie-pop. Funny how life worked. She'd spent her entire life trying to keep him out of this mess, and now he was the one person who she truly believed could help her put an end to it.

"You keep eating those and you're going to have cavities," Hunter said.

He gave a dismissing shrug of his shoulders, apparently unworried. He suddenly sat up a little straighter and pulled the stick from his mouth. "That him?" he pointed then opened the glove box and pulled out binoculars.

Hunter's heart picked, beating out a rapid beat as she looked through the windshield. "Yeah. That's him." She pulled her gun from her shoulder holster and checked the clip, letting out a long breath. "We can't just take him in."

Callen understood what she was saying, and more, he could read between the lines of what she wasn't. This was, in his mind, self defence. He and his sister were being ruthlessly hunted, and now it was time for the hunter to become the prey. He knew though that she could only see it as murder and wondered if she was to get the clean shot... would she take it?

"Can you do this?" he asked.

She nodded twice. "I've got this." She could live with whatever she had to do, as long as she was able to keep him safe.

::

"Sit still," Kensi insisted.

Deeks tried not to fidget but it was hard not to. Adrenaline was still pulsing through his system after the guns-a-blazing part.

Kensi had gone back to the car a few minutes ago to grab her purse. They'd been searching inside of the apartment for a while and the blood on her partners face had really been bothering her so she decided to do a little first aid so she could focus, plus that splinter really needed to go.

Inside her purse was a tiny medical kit, it was adorable and she figured would sooner or later be useful. She used the tweezers to pull the wood sliver out. Deeks's teeth grinded together and she frowned. "Sorry."

"Is it out?"

"Yep," she responded as she picked up the little bottle of liquid to clean the wound.

"Feels like it's still there," he went to touch it and she swatted his hand away. He hissed out a breath as she dabbed the wound.

"Don't be such a baby," she insisted as she cleaned the blood from the side of his face.

He took the time to look around. The place had been pretty much trashed, like this wasn't going to be like looking for a needle in a haystack to begin with. "Computer has taken a bullet," he pointed.

"And Nicholas was a computer geek. Likely any of the information we need... was on it," Kensi replied with a long sigh.

"Might be salvageable," Deeks said. They'd sifted through the rest of the papers (mostly bills), the bedroom (nothing interesting), the kitchen (nothing but potato chips.)

"We should take it to Ty," Kensi said. "He's the best with computer bits."

"You sure?" he asked. "I figured this was suppose to be done completely off the books, only within those who knew."

"Eric's good, but Ty's the best when it comes to broken components... I'll call Hetty, see what she thinks... if it isn't too bad I'm sure Eric could get it done, it's just..."

"We're running out of breathing room," Deeks replied as he watched his partner pack up the little medical kit. "You're worried about Callen."

Kensi bit her bottom lip and then realizing her tell she licked her lips and trying to keep her face impassive.

"It's okay, Kens," Deeks said rather softly. "I'm worried too."

"We're usually the tracking down the bad guys... it leaves me with a sick feeling knowing there are people hunting down Callen."

"Then lets do something useful," Deeks said. "Lets take the computer and see what we can get off of it."

::

They realized the second they were out of the car that they didn't work well as partners. Both wanted to take lead. Both went automatically to the left side of the door. They were bumping into each other, walking into one another. Callen switched sides of the door, he was so use to working with Sam, that Sam took the right side, Sam kicked the door. Callen was use to going in first, use to taking lead, taking charge of the situation. He knew every move his partner was going to make, they worked like a well oiled machine. When one dropped down to check a body the other kept moving, not stalling, no questions, they simply knew exactly what the other was doing.

With his sister he was the one to open the door, she was the one to go and do the first sweep. It wasn't that he didn't trust her to do the job, it's just that... she wasn't his partner. He tried once again to take lead and they ended up hitting shoulders and he nearly accidentally squeezed off a shot. They looked to each other, mirrored annoyance.

He gave a few hand signals, they were quick, bossy.

She gave him a rude one finger in return, and an icy glare.

He gave a wave of both hands and a shake of his head as if to ask, it expressed his annoyance.

She shifted back on her left leg and cocked her head to one side, her eyebrows raised as if to say, 'really?' in that sarcastic, bitter tone she had down pat.

He let out a sigh and when the sound of metal hitting concrete was heard both of them were back at the ready, their guns focussed on the hallway. Neither bothered with more hand signals. It had become rather apparent that neither was going to listen to the other. They walked in tandem, their strides matched step for step.

They stopped at the door and looked at each other. Callen held up three fingers and she nodded.

_Three. _

_Two. _

_One_.

::

Eric opened the video link that was inside of Callen's NCIS email inbox. Nell on one side of him, Sam on the other, the three of them watching as the video took a few seconds to buffer.

The room was ill lit. It was hard to make out much of anything but it gave all three of them a horrible feeling.

"You killed my brother." The voice was crisp, female, and angry.

"Has to be Quinn," Nell whispered and both men nodded.

There was a tiny click and a lightbulb illuminated the small room. "No windows," Eric muttered.

"Appears to be a basement," Nell noted. "Or some form of industrial room."

In the centre of the room was a chair that a female figure, dressed in all black, a black bag over her head, was tied to. Quinn walked into the frame and Nell recognized her from the photographs they'd collected for identification. The lighting still wasn't great but it was enough for her to be able to positively identify the woman, but she'd still run it, just in case.

"You're the last of the Callen line," Quinn said walking away from the camera and toward the figure in the middle of the room. "You will die by my hand," she said as she placed her hand on the seated woman who struggled suddenly trying to get away from who was touching her. "And..." Quinn looked over the still hooded figure's shoulder, her piercing eyes staring into the camera. "You'll come to me."

Quinn ripped the bag off and Nell gasped, Sam cursed and Eric's mouth dropped open.

Vivian Piascovschi's bright green eyes were feral with anger and she shot a dark glare Quinn's way. "He won't come. He's going to kill you."

Quinn picked up a folder from a small folding table and showed something to Vivian that didn't get caught on camera. "He'll come." Quinn smiled and walked back to the camera. "Right... Grigore?"

She held up the photograph for the camera. Displayed was Vivian's hand over his, her on her tiptoes kissing his cheek on the street. The photograph was gone and Quinn smiled. "You have twenty four hours to reply to this email. If you don't..." she waved a knife in front of the camera. "I'll start cutting off pieces and sending them to you in the mail. Ten fingers, ten toes. I can do this for a while... save us all the wait, save her a few extremities. I'm not a patient woman. Maybe I won't even wait those twenty four hours..." she looked over her shoulder and Vivian had paled considerably.

Quinn gave a disturbing grin to the camera. "Choice is yours."

::

**I'm really sorry about this cliffhanger, especially since it's the last one till I get back from holidays. (Early January I'll be back to posting- sorry for the wait)**

**Thanks for reading :) Happy holidays!**


	26. Chapter Twenty Three

Callen burst into the room first, his gun at the ready, Hunter right behind him. Mikhail Fairchild stood, his gun in hand.

_Both fired._

Mikhail Fairchild dropped to the ground. Stone dead from the shot to the heart, and one to the head. Most people think that things slow down, but they're wrong. It happened so quick, and neither agent had thought about it, it was instinct, kill or be killed. They both stared at the aftermath of blood and a fresh corpse.

The white noise might have taken over but instead all Callen could hear was his sisters deep, panicked breaths. The room was cold and it went right to the bones, illuminated by a few overhead bulbs and a eerily by a lantern in the corner.

Callen let out a breath, swept the rest of the room, kicked the gun away and checked for a pulse. As expected, Mikhail Fairchild was dead. He looked over his shoulder to see Hunter crouched, elbows on her knees, her gun dangling from her one hand, her other hand up in her hair causing her ponytail to become messy.

"You okay?" He asked.

Her blue eyes met his, hers held tears. She opened her mouth, but then as if she did not trust her voice she nodded instead.

Callen stood to his full height and looked around the room. There wasn't much of anything. He bent down and picked up a folder. It had a photo of him, a few of his old home addresses, a few places he'd been recently scrawled out on a sheet of paper.

"He wasn't close. Not yet." He looked back over his shoulder, his sister was still crouched over, staring at the blood that was pooling around the dead body. He set the folder back down and walked over to her. Uncertainly, he placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's going to be okay." They'd survived too much, too long. They had to put an end to this. Neither could truly move on until this old score was settled.

She reached up and patted his hand before standing back up herself and putting her weapon back into her brown leather shoulder holster. "This leaves us with Quinn and Finley in LA right now."

He nodded, but was worried. "Are you good? You weren't hit or anything, right?"

"I'm okay," Hunter insisted despite the guilt already gnawing on her insides. In her brother's eyes, she could see the same guilt reflecting back. "Lets just get this done."

::

"I still think we should call Callen," Eric insisted.

"No," Sam insisted. "We wait till he returns here, we tell him now and he'll go lone wolf on us. That won't help anyone. He can't do this alone."

"Can't do what?" Boian asked causing the agent, the operator and the analyst to jump. He stood in the entrance way to the living room tucking a gun into the shoulder holster he wore for easy access to his weapon.

"Honey," Nicoleta's voice interrupted from down the hall. "Viv in yet?"

"No," Boian raised his voice a little so she would hear him at the other end of the house.

"Christ, what is taking that girl so long? Call her!"

Eric looked over at Sam who sighed. "Boian... we need to talk."

::

Kensi had been worried. Very worried. Having to listen in and not be there, not be able to see her partner... she looked over at him, his face was cleaned up now and she'd taped on a little piece of gauze when the damn thing had decided to start bleeding again. She thought he was poking at it, but hadn't caught him. With it covered, she figured it would heal fine.

She looked over to her partner who was sitting back in the passengers seat. Deeks yawned and looked a little tired, the adrenalin waning. She couldn't help but yawn herself. She checked the rear-view mirror, the computer was still back there. She'd called up Hetty who'd requested that it see it's way to Eric first, if he couldn't fix it, then they'd bring it into Ty.

Moving her hand just slightly she hit her blinker and pulled into the driveway of the little house by the ocean.

"Deeks," she reached over and shook his shoulder. His eyes opened, he hadn't been sleeping but she guessed he was close to it.

He opened his mouth, covered it as he yawned. "Here already? You must have some serious good traffic karma."

Kensi's phone rang and she picked it out and put it on speaker. "Hey Callen, you're on speaker."

"_Who's with you?"_

"Just Deeks. We've just got back to the Piascovschi house."

"_Did you get anything at Nicholas Williams?" _

"No place was trashed," Kensi said.

Deeks filled in the details as briefly as possible. "The computer took a bullet in the firefight but we're bringing it to Eric... if the motherboard is undamaged we might have something."

"_And you're both alright?" _

"Fine," Deeks replied. "Did you guys find Mikhail?"

"_Yeah... he had a gun." _

"Dead?" Kensi asked.

"_Very."_

"Find anything useful?" Kensi asked.

"_No. He had some photographs, some of my old addresses. Nothing too recent. We're going to need to clean up this scene. Might take some time." _

"_We should call Boian,"_ Hunter's voice interrupted. _"He knows a cleaner. This has to be kept off the books."_

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence.

"_Make the call,"_ Callen said finally but Kensi could hear the unease in his voice. _"We will be heading back soon." _

"Alright, see you then," Kensi replied hanging up the phone and closing her eyes for just a second.

"You good?" Deeks asked.

"To keep Callen safe we need to do this under the radar. Off the books." Kensi fiddled with her keys. "And I'd do anything to keep him safe, you know... but... it's a thin line, between being a good guy doing something wrong for the right reasons and a good guy becoming a bad guy."

Deeks's blond eyebrows drew down a little as he puzzled over his partner's insight. "Callen's a good guy."

"But... by the end of this will he still be on the right side of the law... will any of us be?"

It came down to the moral compass of each individual member of the team. Deeks didn't have an answer for his partner, he knew Callen but no one truly knew what he was capable of. Sam, maybe, but Deeks figured even the big guy could be surprised by the mysterious G Callen.

"Lets get the computer inside," Deeks said.

Kensi sighed. "Yeah, okay."

They got the tower out of the back seat and Deeks held the bulky object with a poor grip. The bullets in it made him think about how easily they could have done him considerably more damage.

Kensi opened the front door and stepped back for Deeks but was surprised by Sam's stern voice. "You can't just go out looking for her. There is no where to start!" She peeked past her partner to see Sam grab on to Boian's arm.

"She's my daughter," Boian yelled back yanking his arm back.

"What happened?" Deeks asked looking around, startled by the tension in the room.

"It's Quinn," Nell filled them in. "She has Vivian."

Nicoleta was by her husband's side. "We must find her, Sam. We have already lost too much."

"We will find her," Sam said softly, trying to convince the Piascovschi family.

Boian's phone went off.

"Bet it's Hunter," Kensi said. "They found Mikhail."

"Dead?" Sam asked.

"Very," Kensi replied as Callen had. "They need a cleaner."

"You can't tell them about Vivian," Sam ordered Boian. "G will lone wolf it."

"So would Amy," Nicoleta said worriedly. "Don't tell them."

Boian seemed torn but answered the phone, his other hand was taken by his wife and she kissed his knuckles, worry swimming in her eyes. He kept it short and hung up. "I have to call the guy."

Nicoleta nodded, it was a hard life that they had lived. They rubbed elbows with the worst kind of people and did it all to keep their daughter, to keep Amy, and G alive and safe. It had become their duty, their calling.

::

Hunter and Callen waited outside for the cleaner Boian would be sending. They both were leaning against the hood of the car and staring at the building where the body of Mikhail Fairchild lay. Both were quiet, the weight of what they'd done pulling them down and they fought to stand stay standing under the heft of it.

A car approached and a man got out, he was about as nondescript as one could be. Brown hair, brown eyes, Caucasian, five foot eight, t-shirt, jeans, hoodie, average in every way. No one would look twice. "Body?"

"Room at the end of the hall," Hunter replied pointing to the buildings entrance. "Payment?" she asked worriedly. Her bank account was dangerously close to slipping into the red and her credit cards were all but maxed.

"On tab." The cleaner then walked away from them and the siblings looked to one another with mirrored expressions of raised eyebrows and wide eyes that said, 'that was weird.'

Hunter went around to the driver side and Callen to the passenger side. Sitting inside of the car and buckled, Hunter fiddled a second with the keys. Callen watched his sister, keeping silent. Her eyes were closed as she ran her thumb over the car key, she took in a deep breath and when she opened her eyes she seemed to find some sort of resolve.

"You alright?" Callen asked, because he wouldn't blame her if she said 'no.'

"Our lives were always leading to this," Hunter said, there wasn't any sadness, no anger but acceptance in her monotonous delivery. "I'm prepared to do what it takes."

He wondered if he could say the same, say it honestly. At first, he thought he could. He'd been in battle before, he'd been on home soil and still have to use his service weapon. In a position where it was him or the enemy he had no doubt that he would fire. If Mikhail hadn't raised a weapon... would he have been able to shoot an unarmed man? By the time this was over, would he have to find out the answer to that question?

Hunter started the car and he stared out the window lost in thought.

::

**Thanks for reading :)**


	27. Chapter Twenty Four

**What? An extra post? You're welcome. There will still be one on Sunday as usual ;) Thank you to everyone who's left a review, I really appreciate the feedback on this story! It really helps keep fuel it forward!**

Vivian tested the bindings but couldn't find any give. She was furious. She had been putting the groceries in the back of the vehicle and then 'zap' and nothing. Her head ached, her fingertips had taken a while to get feeling back. Vivian couldn't believe that Quinn had gotten close enough to hit her in the neck with a stun-gun without her noticing at all.

Quinn was on a laptop, the light of the screen illuminating her face. Vivian looked around. The camera was still across from her on a tripod but it wasn't recording. The walls were cinder blocks and she figured they were likely underground. There was a single dusty bulb hanging from the ceiling and it didn't give too much light. The floor was dirty and there were footprints from Quinn walking around.

Vivian tested her bindings again but she couldn't move. Her hands were handcuffed and then duct taped to the wood spindles of the back of the chair. Her ankles had ropes tied around them attaching each to a chair leg. There was no way she could move.

She closed her eyes and prayed for courage. Her parents would never let Grigore come to her. He was the last of the Callen line... he and Amy. Her parents had dedicated the majority of their lives to protecting the Callen children. Vivian felt the resurgence of anger, their dedication to another family still infuriated her. Her brother, Alex, had paid the price of their ridiculous loyalties. So had Toby. She shook her head, she couldn't think about that. Not now.

Focussing, she tried to get past her fear. There was a bead of sweat trailing down the back of her neck, her arms ached in protest of their prolonged position. Her ankles and wrists felt raw from how she kept trying to escape the bindings. She needed to get out of them, but there was simply no way it was happening without help.

"I have to pee," Vivian said but Quinn didn't look away from where her hands flew over the keyboard. Vivian cleared her throat loudly. "I have to pee!"

"Heard you the first time," Quinn said. "Hold it."

"I can't," Vivian argued. "I'll piss myself. Honestly, it wouldn't make my situation that much worse." Sure it was a lie, but the entire point was to convince Quinn to untie her. Worst case, she'd have time to at least stretch her aching muscles, best case she could escape or be able to send out a message for help.

Quinn turned and stared at her, angry eyes and tightly pressed lips.

Vivian shrugged as much as she could with the way her hands were tied. "Try me, bitch, there doesn't look to be any ventilation in this room so if you want to be smelling urine..."

Quinn stood and cursed under her breath. Vivian's breath kicked up a notch when Quinn produced a switchblade from her pocket, the blade glinting in the light. Quinn bent to cut the bindings at her feet. "I swear, if you try anything, I'll cut that pretty little face of yours, you understand me?"

As much as Vivian wanted to give a snarky remark back, she smartly bit her tongue and nodded instead. She found it difficult, once her right leg was free, not to kick out. It wouldn't help her, she'd still be tied to the chair and Quinn would be pissed off and with a knife. Vivian had no doubt in her mind that when Quinn said that she would cut her face that the malicious woman would go through with it. With her left leg free as well, Quinn walked around her and cut the duct tape that bind her cuffed hands to the chair.

Quinn grabbed her by her right wrist and hauled her to her feet. Vivian nearly lost balance, her legs wobbly and uncertain. She couldn't tell if the effect was from missing breakfast... and whatever other meals of the day- she had no idea what time it was, or perhaps the stun gun, or maybe from sitting on that chair for what felt like hours.

"Come on," Quinn barked, practically dragging her to a door. Vivian kept her eyes out for anything that might help as she was dragged through a narrow hallway that lead to a set of stairs which Quinn pushed her up first. At the top of the stairs Vivian noticed all the windows were boarded up, the kitchen appeared to be in disrepair. "Right."

Vivian turned to the right and started walking, there was dust on everything, cobwebs in corners. Quinn walked her to the bathroom. "You have five minutes."

She glared at Quinn. "Can't do a damn thing with my hands cuffed behind my back."

Quinn's eyes hardened but she took the key from her pocket and walked around uncuffing one and then bringing both hands out front and slapping the cuff back on. "You can work with that."

Vivian walked into the bathroom and slammed the door shut, clicking the miraculously still functioning lock. Not that it gave her any real sense of security, if Quinn wanted in, she could easily kick through the cheap wood door. Vivan looked around. No razors under the sink, in the medicine cabinet or in the shower. Hell, the only thing in the shower was a cockroach that had Vivian's skin crawling.

She fought to stay strong but she really just felt like crying. Sadness, fear, they were useless to her, they were debilitating emotions. She tried to get her wrists out of the cuffs but had no luck other than getting her wrists raw. She tried to peek through the boards that blocked out the window but she couldn't make out a single thing about her surroundings.

Figuring she wasn't going to get out at the moment she did take the time to actually use the washroom, it wasn't like Quinn was going to let her go at her leisure. The water ran cold as she washed her hands and splashed water on her face hoping it would make her more alert. The glass from the mirror on the medicine cabinet had been broken out, no glass shards left. She took one last look around but found nothing.

In hand-to-hand combat Vivian could hold her own. She was in no way as good at it as her brother had been, not as good as Amy either... she wasn't sure she could take Quinn but she figured this was the best chance she was going to get. If she waited, she would be hungry, her arms and legs more cramped or aching. Fighting with her hands cuffed presented a huge disadvantage but Vivian just couldn't wait, couldn't do nothing, couldn't sit tied to a chair praying for a rescue that might never come. She put it into her mind that she was on her own, that this was up to her.

Quinn banged on the door. "Time's up!"

Vivian shut her eyes and prepared herself.

::

Logan awoke to yelling, the voice he immediately placed as Lau-Amy's. He shook his head trying to get use to the name change as he sat up, his body aching in protest and he looked to the night stand, someone had put a couple of pain pills and a glass of water there for him. He took the pills and washed them down gratefully.

"How did this happen!" The yelling caused him to focus, it was Hunter's voice, that was for sure but he had no idea what she was talking about.

"We're not sure," the voice was talking at a normal level, and it seemed that Eric was trying to keep calm while he explained. "We've looked into the supermarket feed."

"It was Quinn."

Hunter let out a sharp curse and Logan got to his feet.

"We need to reply to that e-mail," Callen said, his voice expressing a barely leashed temper that was trying to be suffocated by logic.

Logan grabbed a grey t-shirt that was hanging over the end of the bed and pulled it over his head, it was the same colour as the track pants that hung low off his hips. He stepped out into the hallway and shuffled down it.

"We have to get her back," Hunter's voice was pained and he came up behind her to put a hand on her shoulder. She jumped and looked over at him. "Logan? Are you okay?"

He was in pain, but it wasn't as bad as it once had been. "Fine," he replied. "What is going on?"

"Quinn has Vivian."

Logan put an arm over Hunter's shoulders. "I'm sorry."

"She sent a video to Grigore, Quinn did." He could feel the tension in Hunter's shoulders. "Vivi is tied to this chair, and..." He pulled her into his chest and felt the first tear soak through his shirt.

"We'll get her back," Logan insisted, his heart clenching from her pain.

"I'll go," Callen said. "I'll get her back."

"G, think about this," Sam insisted.

"I am," Callen argued. "She's not dying for me!"

"And you are not dying for her," Kensi dug in, her eyes wide with worry.

Callen's hands ran over his head, the stress and tension in the room nearly unbearable.

"We need a plan," Nell said.

"We need to look at this logically," Hetty insisted.

"Detached," Nell agreed with a little nod.

"I can't," Callen admitted after a moment. For once in his life he was involved, attached. This wasn't a stranger, it was Venice- Vivian. This wasn't some random criminal, this was a woman who was out for his blood and Vivian was in this mess because of him. The guilt was eating him alive.

Eric jumped to his feet. "Motherboard is working!" He had been working on the computer that Kensi and Deeks had brought in, surprised to find the motherboard unhurt after the rest of the case had eaten a few bullets.

Everyone crowded around. "What's on it?" Boian demanded. "Did he know where Quinn was?"

Eric started a general search for the things they needed. "No, there doesn't seem to much of anything on Quinn, but there is information on Finley."

"It was Finley on the roof with Nicholas, he escaped," Hunter said. "Makes sense that Nicholas would have had information on him."

"There is a hotel name, room number," Eric turned to Nell, she was on the same brainwave her phone in hand.

"Hello? Hi, my name is Susy, I'm waiting for my husband, I was just wondering if he had checked out yet, room number 544... no? Still checked in... okay, thank you so much, have a nice day," Nell hung up. "Finley hasn't checked out."

"Might be something," Deeks said looking to his partner.

Callen nodded. "Kensi, Deeks, Sam, go to the hotel. Find Finley."

"And you?" Sam asked a little angrily.

"I'm going to Quinn."

"As are we," Nicoleta said holding her husband's hand. "We're getting our little girl back."

Callen turned to his sister who had kept close to Logan since he'd joined them. She looked from her brother, to Logan, and then to Nicoleta. "I need a word with you, Nia."

Nicoletta gave a sharp nod and the two women walked away toward the kitchen area.

::

**Thanks for reading :) **


	28. Chapter Twenty Five

Sam, Kensi and Deeks had already driven away. Callen stood in the driveway in front of the lovely little ocean side home. He could hear the waves, the gulls. The sun beat down upon him, not a cloud in the sky. It was a disgusting beautiful day for something so awful to be happening.

He'd responded to Quinn's email. He'd walk into the lionesses den, and if he didn't come out, he was okay with that. He couldn't however go into hiding, back off or leave this to someone else to handle. Vivian was in this position because of him, because of old family feuds. It was pure insanity.

Boian, Hetty and Nicoleta came out of the house and joined him. "Amy?" he asked.

Nicoleta stood a little straighter. "She'll be joining us later. We need to get moving. Quinn gave you the address to meet her at."

Callen had the paper in his hand, his stomach in knots. "Yes."

"Lets move."

::

"Sam... this is a thirty zone, not a sixty," Kensi pointed out riding shotgun. She had been chewing her nails the entire drive, she was aware of it but couldn't stop. Her heart had accelerated, she was worried, top of that worry list was Callen. She didn't like that he was out there minus Sam. They balanced each other. Kensi had a terrible feeling Callen would go lone wolf first chance he got, she knew he felt responsible for what happened... and if he was out there with out Hetty, with out Boian or Nicoleta... would he come home?

"We should be with G," Sam said voicing Kensi's thoughts.

"We're doing what he needs us to," Deeks said reasonably from the back middle seat. He liked to still be able to see out the windshield although he felt like a child in the back of the car. "He's with Hetty, he'll be fine," the way he said it, it was like was daring someone to say Hetty wasn't competent in the field. "Boian and Nicoleta are Vivian's parents-"

"Exactly!" Sam cut him of. "They're Vivian's parents, they'll do whatever it takes to get her back!"

Kensi turned slightly and her eyes met her partners. Deeks gave the slightest of shrugs. Neither really knew how to handle Sam, that was a 'G' thing.

"Callen will be fine," Kensi insisted sounding more sure of it than she felt. Fact was, she didn't like this anymore than Sam did.

::

The park was fairly busy, young families playing, children laughing, a few joggers making their way through, a woman pushing a stroller.

Callen walked through the park alone but knew there were eyes on him. Eric had tapped the cameras at the park, the two of them that left plenty of blind spots, but the information was on Nell's tablet which Nicoleta was watching in the vehicle along with Boian and Hetty.

He had back up but it did nothing to ease the tension between his shoulders. If they moved in, Quinn would run, and if they shot her they might never find Vivian because it was obvious from the video that Quinn wasn't hiding her here.

Callen walked to the picnic table on top of the hill, the one between two trees, just like Quinn had told him. She wasn't there and he looked around spotting a red cell phone on one of the branches, it started ringing a second after.

He quickly walked over and picked the ringing phone up. "Hello," he answered as he looked around trying to spot the woman.

"_Hello, Mr Callen,"_ Quinn's voice cut through him. She had to be there, had to have eyes on him to know he was there when she called. _"Glad to see you found the place. Nice shirt, blue is definitely your colour." _

He knew she was just proving that she could see him. Could kill him right now if she chose. He wondered why she hadn't.

"Where is Vivian?"

"_You're going to ditch that group of yours,"_ Quinn insisted. _"There is a motorcycle in the south parking lot. Start walking to it now." _

"_Security cameras just went out," _Hetty's voice was in his ear piece. _"What is going on Mr Callen?" _

"_Start walking, Mr Callen,"_ Quinn insisted again._ "Or I swear. I'll do worse to that blonde tart of yours than I already have." _

He pulled out his ear piece and set it on the picnic table as he started down the hill. "What have you done?" He asked Quinn angrily, his hand in a fist. What had she done to Vivian? His imagination could come up with all kinds of awful.

"_You'll just have to wait and see. There are directions in the saddle bag of the motorcycle. Get moving, you have ten minutes." _

::

Callen got to the café via the motorcycle and in front of the cafe was the car that had been described in the instructions. He left the motorcycle and got into the car. He hated this, being played.

Where was Amy? Why hadn't she come with them? Nicoleta said she'd be right behind them when they left but up until he'd removed the ear piece she hadn't joined them.

His mind whirled with what Quinn could have done to Vivian. Hell he could be walking in there only to find her dead body, a heap on the dirty floor, her eyes dim and dead. He shook the haunting image from his head. He'd see this through. He couldn't let her die because he wouldn't look his fate in the eye. This battle had started before he had even been born, but damn it, he was going to finish it. _One way or another_.

He looked around in the car. There was further instructions in the glove box along with a time limit. He didn't have time to waste, he was going to have to do some impressive driving as it was to get to where she wanted him in the time given. She'd threatened again on the paper that if he wasn't there Vivian would be losing an extremity. He started the engine and took off.

::

Deeks had explained and charmed the woman behind the counter explaining that they were police and needed to talk to a witness, but didn't want to spook anyone who may be watching. The woman was understanding and provided what they needed.

Kensi didn't look happy when she stepped out in the little black dress with a white frilly apron over it. "Seriously? The maids here wear these?"

"Yep," Deeks replied. "And if I ever need to stay at a hotel again, this is the one I'm choosing."

"You're a pig!"

"Can we focus?" Sam demanded, wondering how the younger duo ever got a single thing done.

Kensi turned to Sam and nodded.

"Distress word?" Deeks asked.

"Apron."

"Alright," Deeks said. "We'll be right down the hall."

Kensi nodded and straightened up, she didn't like the worry in her partner's voice but understood it. "I know." She had faith in Deeks, in Sam, that if anything happened they would be there to back her up.

"Be safe, Kensi," Deeks whispered as he passed by her while he and Sam got into position.

::

Callen's knuckles were white on the wheel, he'd made it but not without causing an accident with two other cars along the way. He hoped everyone was okay but couldn't stop to check. He got out of the car and looked around there hadn't been any other instructions.

"Hey," A teenage boy walked over. "You the G-man?"

Callen stared at the teenager- puberty had not been kind. Callen looked at the envelope in the kid's hand. "Yeah," Callen reached out and the teenager handed over the plain white envelope. Callen stared down at it, his heart hammering in his chest and then the teenager moved quickly_ 'zap'_ and it was lights out.

::

Kensi knocked on the door. "Room service!"

No answer. She pressed her ear to the door and listened. There was chattering, audience laughter- the television. She pulled the master keycard out of her apron and used it to unlock the door, it flashed green and she pushed the heavy door to room 544 open.

The place was a mess. The man clearly had no organizational skills and wouldn't be developing any either.

"We've got a body," Kensi said covering her nose with the back of her hand. "And he's been dead a while!"

She waited in the doorway, until Sam and Deeks were flanking her. "Oh that's gross," Deeks wrinkled his nose as he walked in pulling on his gloves.

"Let's see what we got," Sam said pulling out gloves of his own and the three agents got to processing the scene.

::

Callen felt groggy, his body slowly coming back to himself. His legs kept hitting something. _Thump, thump, thump, thump._ He stared at his feet, dazed and confused. Stairs. What happened? He blinked a few times and realized he was being dragged, arms under his as he was dragged into a room and propped up in a chair. He tried to fight back but his arms were cuffed behind his back, he heard tape being pulled and a second later it was being wrapped around his wrists pinning them to a chair.

"I got her with the stun-gun too. Teenagers will do anything for a couple hundred waved in front of their faces," Quinn's voice said. "Drugged you a bit, further drive, didn't want you waking up in the trunk and fighting me when I get you out. I want this to last. You killed my brother..." her words were hot breath against his ear. Quinn walked around and tapped his ankles to the chair legs. "I want this to last."

Callen's mind focussed, he could make a fist now, he blinked and his vision got less fuzzy and finally cleared. Across from him was Vivian but the only thing he noticed was the blood coating the right side of her face.

"Like what I did with her?"

"You killed Alex!" Vivian accused Quinn looking irate.

"No," Quinn responded picking up the blood soaked knife. "Alistair did, cut Alex's face before giving him the final send off." Quinn mimicked a gun with her fingers pressed up against Vivian's temple. "Figured it would be poetic for you to go out the same way."

"Don't!" Callen cried out when Quinn produced a gun. "You have me. You have what you wanted. Let her go."

"When has that ever worked?" Quinn asked. "But, I'm not going to kill her yet. By the time I'm done with her, she'll hate you for putting her in this position."

Quinn picked up a shot glass of clear liquid, from the brief scent of it Callen figured vinegar. Quinn splashed it over Vivian's cut that ran through her eyebrow, missed her eye and cut down her cheekbone.

Vivian's scream echoed in the little basement room and chilled him to the bone.

"She'll hate you... you'll hate yourself. By the time I'm done," Quinn said with an expression that clearly said she had no problem with the violence she committed to, in fact, she appeared to enjoy it. "You'll be begging for me to kill her, if only to grant her mercy... and maybe then I'll put a final end to both of you."

::

**Thanks for reading :) **


	29. Chapter Twenty Six

Callen wasn't sure how long they'd been there. Days... hours... maybe less. Time was funny when you're locked up in a room with no windows being tortured. Not funny 'haha,' but funny weird. Another weird thing, Quinn had left them hours ago. Callen figured it was part of the torture. Wondering when she'd be back.

He was missing a few fingernails on his right hand. So was Vivian who appeared to be unconscious, slumped forward in the chair in front of him, her chin resting against her chest. His face was aching. Quinn knew how to throw a punch and seemed to enjoy finally getting out some of her frustration on her intended target.

Vivian raised her head, there was tear tracks through the drying blood on her face. "How long have we been down here?" she asked, her voice dry, gone was the bright free-spirit. This was survival, her green eyes dull but defiant. Lips swollen, split and still pressed into an angry line. The cut would forever scar her face but at least it had stopped bleeding, still the dried blood was impossible to ignore.

"You were gone maybe a couple of hours before I went to the park," Callen replied. His face felt stiff, talking wasn't easy. He bet the side of his face was a bit swollen and if the limited vision in his left eye was any indication, he was right.

"Park?"

"To meet with Quinn, or a phone, which lead me to a motorcycle which had instructions to a car to take me to a lot with some teenager who got me with a fucking stun gun," with every word Callen got angrier. He'd been stupid. Reckless. He'd just had to get to her... and he had but this wasn't exactly a beneficial situation. He looked down at his wrist. "I've been gone from Hetty, Nicoleta and Boian for about four hours. They're looking."

"They won't find us."

Callen kept staring at his watch. "They will."

"You know something I don't?"

"Probably all kinds of things." Her eyes narrowed and he gave her a smile. "We're going to get out of this."

She turned to the doorway as footsteps approached. "I wish I believed that."

::

"Are you sure about this?" Logan asked sitting next to her on the air plane.

Frankly it was far too late for the question. They were six hours into the twelve and a half hour flight. Not that he hadn't asked before she left the house- him tailing her and getting into the car with her, refusing to get out. Since she'd miss her flight she figured she'd take him along, ditch him at the airport. No such luck. He'd asked her again when they'd gone through the security check taking off their watches and shoes. When they were waiting for the plane to board he'd asked at least three times. Before take off he'd asked again, each time it was like he was almost praying for her to come to her senses.

"I'm sure," she replied as she had each and every other time. They were flying first class because they'd been the only seats available on such short notice. Two of her credit cards had been declined, he ended up paying for the seats which was kind of mixed messages as far as she was concerned. He didn't want her to go, and yet he helped her get on the plane. "Why did you pay?" She finally asked. First class was vacant but for them, everyone packed like sardines in economy.

"Because you would have found another way," Logan replied as he pulled down the shade on the window. Not that much of anything could be seen. "No point in wasting time... I can't believe you left him."

She knew exactly the 'him' he was talking about. Grigore Callen, her little brother. "Hetty is with him," she said with a wave of her hand. "So is Nicoleta and Boian. Those three have given much to keep he and I safe, they won't let anything happen to him, but the Comescu and Fairchild families are going to become suspicious when there is no contact from Alistair, Mikhail, Finley or Quinn. I need to go in."

"Walk me through that again, because it still sounds eight kinds of crazy. Maybe instead of paying for the flight I should have put you in for a psychiatric evaluation."

"You came with me," she replied with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah," he replied, his dark eyes studying her face. "I did. I wonder what that says about me."

She decided this wasn't the time to delve into that comment. "I worked undercover inside the Comescu family," she said in a lowered voice that had him instinctively leaning in to hear better. "Illena Vadim is a real woman, but she wants nothing to do with her family... so I took her place. I can get in."

"And then what?" he whispered back. "What do you do then, Amy?"

Hunter pressed her lips together and through clenched teeth replied. "Then I kill them all."

::

He struggled against the bindings, anger colouring his vision red.

The chair he was tied to creaked and wobbled in protest.

Vivian's pitched screams filled the room, the sound horrifically balanced by Quinn's low rumble of laughter.

Quinn let go of the knife but left it buried in Vivian's upper arm.

Callen sat very still as he stared at the knife. He forced himself to stare, to look at what this blood feud had come to. To face what his being alive meant for others.

Quinn picked up something and Callen caught the glint in the corner of his eye. He blinked a few times trying to make his brain process what it was he was seeing. A guillotine cigar cutter.

"No," Vivian muttered when Quinn slowly approached her. "No, no, _no!_" She was screaming, thrashing in the chair but Quinn walked behind her, where her arms were pinned behind her back.

All Callen could see was Vivian's panic, the way it grew with each second.

"This little piggy went to the market," Quinn sing-songed from behind the chair.

Vivian was still screaming, wiggling. She kept her hands in the tightest fist while Quinn was prying her fingers open.

"This one went to the butcher to be gutted, decapitated and hanged."

Vivian's scream echoed off the walls as one of her fingers were pried straight.

"Leave her alone!" Callen yelled. There was a part of his brain that kept insisting 'this can't be happening' and the other part was shocked by the startling reality of what was going on around him.

Quinn's laptop dinged. "Shit." Quinn stood back up straight, ruffled Vivian's hair and shot Callen a smile. She put the cigar clipper on the little folding table and walked over to the laptop. Whatever was onscreen, she didn't seem pleased with. She took the laptop, left the room and kicked the door shut loudly behind herself.

Callen felt sick to his stomach and continued to unsuccessfully fight with his bindings.

::

Sam was tense. Angry was about four hours ago. Furious was the current state of things.

Finley had been dead on arrival. Shot in the head. Pro shot. He had to have known the shooter. Obvious answer was a greedy, vengeful Quinn who didn't want to deal with her relative trying to get in her way.

Hetty, Nicoleta and Boian had botched watching over Callen. _Again. _Hadn't they let him down enough for one lifetime? He felt bad for thinking it. When Callen wanted to go lone wolf, he went lone wolf. End of story. Still, he couldn't help but think maybe things would have been different had he have been there. Maybe he could have made a difference. Maybe he could have made Callen think about his actions.

Then again... Callen had done what needed to be done. He'd followed the instructions to keep the girl safe. It was predictably Callen and Sam was angry that none of them had seen it sooner.

"We're going to get him back," Kensi said to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. She was plain clothes, her usual jeans and t-shirt but she had a gun strapped to her leg and a couple extra clips.

"Yeah," Sam replied quietly as his hand gripped the gun a little tighter.

"Good thing you put that GPS in the watch you got him for Christmas," Deeks said having been filled in by Kensi.

"Good thing G didn't know there was a GPS or it would be long gone," Sam replied. His partner had infuriatingly gone lone wolf one too many times when he'd talked Eric into modifying the watch before giving it as a Christmas gift the year before.

They along with Nicoleta, Boian and Hetty stood ready outside of the old home where the GPS was giving off a weak signal. Eric said that likely meant Callen- or at least his watch- was in the basement.

"We ready?" Nicoleta asked breaking the silence.

Kensi looked to Sam who gave a sharp nod. "Lets go!"

::

**Thank you for reading :)**


	30. Chapter Twenty Seven

**So, updating schedule is basically non-existent at this point. Life is kind of crazy, I'll be updating when I can, please be patient!**

::

In the basement they heard Callen and Vivian heard a ruckus on the upper floor. "Someone just kicked open a door," it was a sound Callen was incredibly familiar with. Hope swelled in his chest. He glanced at the watch and grinned. He'd taken it apart a few weeks after he'd gotten it from Sam, he liked to see how things ticked. He'd discovered the little GPS. He'd thought over time about taking it out, destroying it... but leaving it there and wearing the watch gave Sam a sense that he didn't know about it. If Callen wanted to go off the grid, he'd rid the watch of the GPS or get rid of the watch completely. He was rather glad he'd worn it and left the device inside.

The old house creaked as there were many walking around on the upper level. "Someone to help us, or kill us and take the bounty," Vivian asked, her tongue swiping over her busted bottom lip.

The two stayed quiet, both watching the door as they heard someone descending the stairs on the other side.

::

Logan accepted the glass of red wine from the flight attendant. Hunter declined and tried to find a more comfortable position in her chair. He sipped the wine.

"How is it?"

Logan shrugged. "Not terrible."

She smiled a little. "Wow, you seem enthused."

He didn't smile back and stared into the wine.

She bit down on her bottom lip and tried to come up with something, anything to say. The silence between them made her feel more alone in the world then she ever had, and she was use to being alone... now it had her gut twisted in knots. "You didn't have to come." It was a statement worth the repeat. He didn't... and yet he had. Knowing what she would do, for surely he'd had an inkling, he had gotten on the plane with her.

He took a sip of the wine as he bided his time coming up with a fitting response. "Someone has to make sure you don't get yourself killed." His dark eyes met her light ones and she couldn't bear the weight of his gaze and looked away. "You haven't even done it yet, and already you feel the guilt."

She looked back at him, opened her mouth and closed it when she realized she wasn't sure how to defend herself or her decision.

After five minutes she finally had her response. "It all ends one of two ways," she said quietly. "Only one family gets to live."

He considered her response as he finished off the glass of wine and put it in the plastic bag for recycling. "Have you consi-"

"I've considered every other option," Hunter cut him off, her voice quiet but angry. "This is the only way Grigore or I get to live our lives."

Logan shook his head. "You're wrong. This... _this is wrong_." He gave his head a bit of a shake. "You're blinded by your hate."

"I'm not blind. I've had my eyes open to this war my entire life," Hunter argued, her hands gripping the arm rests with a white knuckle grip. "This must be done. Don't tell me it's wrong."

He turned in his seat and whispered to her ear. "All you're going to do is kill mothers and fathers. You're going to leave behind angry, vengeful, frightened children. _That is wrong_. The Comescu's left you without your parents, struck this hateful fear into your heart and you will do the same to their children."

His words were like a knife to the heart. He leaned back in his chair and a heavy silence fell between them.

::

The door opened and the air rushed from Vivian's lungs. "Dad?" there was disbelief, her voice shocked and sad and fearful.

"Oh, Vivian," Boian lowered his gun as he looked at the two of them. "Baby, I'm so sor-"

The shot echoed in the small room. For a second everything after was still, but for the ringing in their ears, there was silence.

And then Boian crumpled.

Vivian screamed.

Callen stared.

He forced his eyes from the body but couldn't tell where the shot had come from. His viewpoint was terrible and the vision in his one eye was obscured by the swelling of his face.

There were other shots fired and he looked over at Vivian, her screaming had stopped and she simply stared at her father.

"Kens!" Callen heard Deeks's voice call out.

More gunfire.

"Kensi!" Deeks's voice once again called.

"Is she okay?" Sam's voice asked. Callen's heart raced. What had happened to Kensi? Was she okay? Was she like Boian, laying face down with blood pooling?

"Sam!" Callen yelled. He wanted out of his bindings. Out of this room. Out of this moment in time that would stay horrifically in his mind forever. "Sam!"

It didn't take long before there were feet on the stairs. Sam came in. Nicoleta stared at her husband and fell to her knees, her gun left at her side. "No, no, Boian," her hand pressed over his pulse point and her head fell forward and her shoulders shook. "Oh God, no."

"What is going on up there? Where is Quinn?" Callen asked.

Sam looked from Vivian who was still staring blankly at her father, to Callen and then to the ceiling. Sam shook his head and pulled a knife from belt. "Kens... Kensi was shot. I... _I don't know_, G. Deeks and Hetty are with her."

"Quinn?"

"Nicoleta shot her. I saw the laptop on the table. Quinn's got external motion sensors. She knew we were coming. There are internal cameras... places we haven't even checked. Can't seem to find. I think there are secret rooms, passage ways." He shook his head. "Quinn came out of no where, shot Kensi, turned the corner and in two seconds- two fucking seconds she was gone from our sight..." Sam cut the tape and proceeded to pick the lock on the cuffs shaking his head at the intelligence of the woman who'd taken the resourceful Special Agent. "And then she nearly shot me, but Nicoleta..." Sam turned to look at the woman who was mourning her husband. Sam turned to go and got Vivian out of the tape and cuffs but even as she was free of her bindings she sat their numbly.

"Venice," Callen didn't think about calling her by her real name, this one felt natural coming from him. He crouched in front of her, his entire body aching though most of the pain was in his face. "Hey, come on. Lets get out of here." He took her hand gently in his own and noticed the ligature marks on both their wrists from their struggle to be free. He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles and her dazed green eyes met his. "I've got you," he told her pulling her up to her feet. He was surprised when she just dropped into his arms and he held her tightly as sobs rose in her throat before painfully echoing off their prison.

::

Logan's eyes were shut but Hunter was fairly sure that he wasn't actually sleeping. She was wide awake, his words replaying over and over in her mind. She kept telling herself this was what needed to be done, this would keep them safe, this would give them a normal life.

But he was right.

She was going to do the same to those little children who's hearts had yet to know the hate and fear of war... she would make them afraid, make them lost, make them alone.

Was there a _right _in this?

"_Two wrongs don't make a right." _The phrase echos around, and it's her mother's voice and she can remember being a little girl, looking after her baby brother. She can remember school ground bullies and fist fights. She can remember her mother scolding her and her brother peering around the corner behind their mother making faces at her... she tried not to smile but couldn't help it and her mother got even more angry.

She remembered that mother who was lost. Who had been shot right in front of her brother. A beautiful, kind, loving woman...

His fingers along her temple slid into her hair and behind her head. "Don't cry," he whispered.

She stared over at him blinking the tears she hadn't realized were welling away. "I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to make this _right_. There isn't a right. There is only wrong."

"Just because someone strikes, doesn't mean you should strike back, Amy."

"Would you?"

Logan's hand left her hair and he took her hand in his. "I did," Logan said softly. "It didn't save her."

She blinked and remembered him speaking of his ex-wife. That she left him. That he killed the men who got her hooked on heroin. "She died?"

He gave a little nod. "Found her in one of the houses... needle in her arm, vacant stare... just... _gone_. All the awful shit I did to try and... save her... it didn't matter. None of it mattered. She was still dead and nothing I..." he looked away and she could hear the emotional tremors, the breaks in his voice. "_The things I did_," he sounded sickened and her hand tightened around his. He'd followed her through her darkness, she'd stick by him through his shadows. "I don't want you to ever know how _this_ feels, Amy."

Guilt was already gnawing at her, and no longer was she so certain she could go through with her plan.

::

**Thanks for reading :)**


	31. Chapter Twenty Eight

**Here is a nice long chapter :) Enjoy!**

::

"Kensi, Kensi, stay with me," Deeks was begging as Callen came up the stairs. The pure fear in the detective's voice sent a chill through Callen. "Eric? Where the hell is medical?"

Sam passed Callen an earpiece and he quickly stuck it in. _"-ay, I'm sorry, they can't move faster. There is a field behind the house. Med-evac should be able to land there." _

Callen turned the corner, his body shaking from adrenalin and pain. He spotted Kensi, unresponsive on the floor. Deeks had his over-shirt pressed to her head and it was drenched in blood. Callen's knees buckled and hit the ground hard.

"G!" Sam's voice barely made it through the white noise in his head. He felt very close to being sick and his vision had zeroed in on Kensi. She was laying there, _just laying there_. It didn't even look like she was breathing. "G!" he felt the big guy shake him but it did nothing to break through the panicked fog.

This was his fault.

This was his family's feud... and now it had spilt the blood of his new family.

"Hey," Vivian's voice was sharp as was the snap of her fingers in front of his face. "Blue Eyes, don't check out on me now!"

He looked over at her, half of her face was covered in dry blood, still, her eyes had their spark of defiance, of anger.

"Come on, Fern," Deeks was holding his partner's head in his lap, no one daring to go near them as he administered the best first-aid any of them could under the circumstances. "Don't do this to me, come on."

"This is my fault," Callen whispered.

"No, G it isn't," Sam replied.

"She should never have come here."

"We run into danger for strangers everyday," Sam replied outwardly calm. "You really think we wouldn't do it for you?"

"She shouldn't be here, she shouldn't be here."

"Shh," Vivian pulled him into her hand they stayed on the ground wound up in one another finding some semblance of comfort. "It's going to be okay."

But he could hear her crying. Feel her sobs as she held him. Things were_ not_ going to be okay.

::

Nell splashed water over her face and tried to put on a look of calm as she looked up into the bathroom mirror. It wasn't calm, there was sadness, traces of rare rage and absolute fear. She patted down her face with one of the plush towels and left. The ocean side home was nice, cozy, warm, inviting and it felt so incredibly _wrong_.

Kensi was fighting for her life. The medical chopper had just landed. Deeks was flying with her to the hospital, but she'd been shot in the head, so much blood that no one could yet assess the damage, the fact that she was still breathing was nothing short of remarkable.

'_Probably just a graze, stunned her is all,'_ she can remember Eric saying in his attempt to comfort her. _'She'll be okay.' _

Nell needed to hear that, so she held onto Eric's words like a life preserver. Trying to remain strong, she walked back into the living room where they'd set up their mini-ops.

"Any updates?"

Eric turned, wiped his face and shook his head. "No."

She knew he was trying to be strong for her, for the team. She walked over and put her hand on his arm. "I'm scared too," she admitted softly and his arm came around her shoulder and pulled her in. She found safety there, drew strength from him- for him. "We'll get through it... together." She looked up at him and caught the look of surprise on his face. Her heart hammered away in her chest and she started to mentally back track. She had said the wrong thing. She always was saying the wrong things in the wrong moments.

"Together," he agreed softly placing a chaste kiss upon her forehead. "Lets get to work."

::

The flight landed. Lauren Hunter, Amy Callen... Ilena Vadim walked through the airport, Logan Cole by her side. He was quiet, but he had already given her so much to think about.

How could she possibly find the balance. The war needed to end, other than complete annihilation of the opposition, she couldn't think of a way to end it. She had a carry on bag packed, he had come with nothing so they passed right by the luggage claim and out the sliding doors to the pick up area, there was a line for the taxi's being filled and she stood in it.

"Be right back," Logan told her before going over to the little vendor just outside the airport doors.

She adjusted the bag on her shoulder and crossed her arms. Her mind was reeling. She still had lingering guilt for leaving when Vivian, a woman who was like a sister to her, was in trouble... but she had left her safety in capable hands. Nicoleta and Boian would never let anything happen to her if there was anyway to stop it. Grigore was a capable special agent and she had faith in his skills... even if it worried her immensely. It was hard to put faith in him, in her mind she could still see him as the little boy who came to her when he got a paper cut, or fell in the playground. She'd been his protector, his healer for so long. How was she to send him out into danger? She gave her head a bit of a shake. Vivian would be fine. She had her own problem to work on.

Logan rejoined her passing her a chocolate bar and she caught the scent of smoke and looked over at him. "Don't you start with me," he said taking a long drag off the little cherry cigar. "I quit three years ago," he blew out a stream of smoke. "Didn't have a craving _til I met you_. Now you've got me stressed to the nth degree, and considering the impending danger it's far more likely I'll get shot again before the cancer from this could get me, _so just don't start_."

She stared a second before she took it from the cigar from him and took a long drag and blew a couple smoke rings before blowing the rest out in a puff. "Quit when I joined the academy. Didn't want a smokers cough or the medical problems that come with them. Figure you're right about the impending chaos, though."

He took the cigar back, his dark eyes narrowing on her. "You shouldn't smoke."

They moved up in the line a bit and she sucker punched him the arm. "Double standard?"

He rubbed his arm and glared at her. "Yeah, I guess. Deal with it."

She shook her head.

"You thought anymore about what I said on the plane?"

"I'm still thinking about it."

"And?"

"And I'll let you know when I do."

::

Nell brought in two mugs of coffee and set them both on the side table. "Have you gotten anything useful off of Quinn's laptop?"

"I think so..." Eric was still working through it all. "Hunter, Nicoleta and Boian all comprised a list of contacts, people who might be able to help, who had helped them at one time or another... there is a name here on Quinn's laptop, it matches with someone on Hunter's list."

"Who?"

"Jakob Harris." Eric let out a frustrated groan. "She's got their correspondence password protected."

"You'll get it... Rock Star," Nell said, her voice filled with confidence.

He gave her a little smile and a nod.

The door burst open and Nell had her glock in hand and was whirling around at the intruders, her heart beating quickly from surprise, but it was Nicoleta, her arm around her daughter. Behind her Sam and Callen both entered. She lowered her gun and found her worried look mirrored back on Eric's face. They knew that Kensi would be taken by helecopter to the hospital, from the way Deeks had sounded over their earpieces they figured he'd be flying with them... but where was Hetty? Where was Boian?

"Where is everyone else?" Eric asked a little nervous to hear the answer.

"Deeks flew with Kensi to the hospital," Sam explained as he guided his shell shocked partner over to the couch and gave a little press on his shoulders to make him sit. "He's going to try and give us updates. Hetty went as well, she's on Kensi's medical papers as next-of-kin."

Nicoleta guided her daughter to sit next to Callen. "I'll get the first aid kit," Nicoleta said.

Sam looked at Vivian, both she and Callen seemed out of it since they'd been rescued. He couldn't blame them. They'd been held for hours with the vicious Quinn. They must have felt safe for a second when Boian opened the door-only to be shot in the back. Callen had supported the young woman as they'd climbed the stairs but it was him who had needed the support when he got a look at Kensi.

Sam knew that Callen and Kensi had a special bond. She was his 'favourite agent' for a reason. He'd trained her since she'd come to NCIS, he'd always felt responsible for her safety. He was hard on her when he thought she was in the wrong, because he wanted her to do better, mistakes in their field didn't end well. She was one of the few agents he actually praised when she did well. From Callen it wasn't much. Sometimes it was a little nod, or even a small grin but Kensi seemed to understand that it was a lot coming from the rather aloof G Callen.

Seeing her shot, bleeding. Hearing Deeks begging, pleading. It had shocked and terrified Callen and left him in quite the state.

Vivian wasn't any better off. She'd survived Quinn's torture, and like the final twist of the knife, had witnessed her father be murdered.

"Boian?" Nell asked in a small voice.

Sam turned away from Vivian who seemed to be inspecting her lack of fingernails to Nell. He shook his head. Nell took a deep breath, turned to Eric and they shared a look of sadness.

::

Logan paid for the hotel room, he was flipping through the book he'd found in the desk. It was a guide of museums, local food places, beaches, touristy stuff. He found what he was looking for, car rentals- he ripped out the page figuring they'd need it sooner or later.

Hunter yawned. She couldn't sleep on planes and she was absolutely exhausted. She was still working over her plan. What could she do? What options did she have? She'd been so self sufficient for so long that having someone to give her a new perspective was alarming. She turned and studied Logan. He was sitting on the bed, his legs over the edge, socked feet on the floor, sweat pants and a t-shirt. Cherry cigar dangling from his lips. Obviously he hadn't paid any mind to the no smoking signs. He'd been pretty much chain smoking since they'd gotten to Romania.

She stood, closed the space between them and took the cigar from his lips. He looked up at her curiously. She thought about taking a drag off of it, but labelled the desire as weakness and turned around to stub it out on the cheap wood desk, she brushed off the ashes and left the half smoked cigar there.

Hunter turned around and leaned against the desk, her arms folded over her chest. "What do you think I should do?"

His eyebrows shot up. Obviously he hadn't expected his opinion to be asked for. "Well... it's not exactly like this kind of situation has a 'how-to' manual." She waited as he set the book aside and rubbed the five o'clock shadow on his chin. "You said they provide start up funds for smaller criminal enterprises, right?"

Hunter nodded and could practically see his mind turning over possibilities. "Well..."

He put a hand up. "I'm thinking, I'm thinking," he ran his hands through his thick hair. "Crippling their business... their money... that's their weakness... or at least the weakness that doesn't involved a crap load of bullets and a hell of a lot of spilt blood."

"If they don't have money... they sure as hell can't be putting out bounties."

"If we can get the enterprises they invested in to turn on them...they'll be far to busy with angry business partners then old blood feuds."

"And how are we going to do that?"

Logan frowned. "I don't have the foggiest idea," he replied. "But the problem, it isn't going anywhere... I didn't sleep on the plane so I know damn well that you didn't either. Lets get some sleep... maybe this will all be clearer in the morning."

"Yeah," Hunter had to agree. She could stay up til the wee hours of the morning trying to work out a solution to the problem but it wasn't going to get her anywhere. "I have to call back to Nicoleta first though... I need to know that they got Vivi out."

"I'll... take a shower, give you some privacy," he stood and she grabbed his arm. He looked down upon her questioningly.

"Thank you," she said. "For everything."

::

Between Nicoleta, Nell and Sam they had been able to patch up Vivian and Callen fairly well. Vivian had it worse, the knife wound in her arm looked like it might be in the beginning stages of an infection. Nicoleta had a doctor contact and had requested his assistance. The slash on her face was closed with butterfly stiches, the white strips and deep red of the gash contrasted with her tanned skin. Nicoleta put the last strip on and looked at her work. "All done, sweetheart."

Callen had been watching Nicoleta's body language. She'd been holding strong since she'd left her husband where he'd died. She had focussed all her energy on helping her daughter, or Callen, or on any other task that needed doing. She needed to grieve but wasn't giving herself the time to do it. She ran her thumb over Vivian's chin but the fair haired woman didn't make much show of noticing. Her eyes were dim, exhausted, pained and filled with sorrow.

"Where is Amy?" Callen asked her.

Nicoleta stiffened and the reaction got Vivian's attention. "Mom?"

"She is doing what needs to be done."

"Where is she?" Callen asked but Nicoleta looked down, not willing to meet his gaze.

"Mother!" Vivian called sharply grabbing her mother by the chin and forcing Nicoleta to look at her. "Where is Amy?"

"Romania. She trusted that we... could get you back... but the only way this all ends is if the Comescu family is _dead_."

"Romania?" Callen said.

Vivian's eyes were awake now, wide with panic. "Romania," she repeated right after Callen. "She'll be killed."

"No she won't," Eric said his head snapping up from his computer. "They don't know she's alive."

"They think she is Ilena Vadim," Nell said softly. "She's going undercover."

Callen ran his hands over his head, he'd just found his sister and now she'd volunteered herself for mission that he thought was no more than suicide. "She was there when we raided the house. She was the one to kill Alexa Comescu... what if... what if someone knows her real identity... or at least that she isn't Ilena?"

Everyone knew the answer, but no one wanted to say it out loud.

Nicoleta's cell phone rang, breaking up the tense silence. She picked it up, making a face at the unfamiliar number on the display. She flipped it open and brought it to her ear. "Hello?" There was a pause of silence as she listened. She let out a sigh. "I'm glad you made it there safely."

"Is it Amy?" Callen asked but Nicoleta just turned away from him.

"Yes she is fine."

Vivian snorted, obviously she didn't think she was 'fine.'

Callen walked over grabbed Nicoleta by the arm and held out his hand. Nicoleta glared at him and held the phone to her chest so Hunter wouldn't hear. "She finds out that you were hurt, she might no go through with this."

"Give me the phone," Callen asked angrily. He'd had a very, very bad day, he was not to be messed with.

Nicoleta reluctantly handed it over.

"Amy?" He took the phone to another room.

"_Hey, Grigore." _He heard a little sigh. _"I'm sorry... about today... about... you know. Taking off to Romania and all that... I... I knew you were are in good hands. Nicoleta, Boian, they're kind of surrogate parents to me. I trusted that with them, you'd be able to get Vivi back. How is she? I mean... Nia told me that she is fine, but..." _

"She's a little banged up, but... she will be okay." It was the truth... banged up might be a bit of an understatement though.

"_Okay, so what is it that both you and Nia are trying to avoid telling me?"_

He opened his mouth the word 'nothing' on his lips but closed his mouth. She had lied to him... and he had been angry about it. Not telling her... did it do anything? Did it really protect her? Would it effect her decisions?

"_Grigore?"_

"Are you sitting down?"

"_Oh God, it's bad news. Yeah, yeah, I'm sitting." _

"Kensi... Kensi was..."

"_Oh,"_ it was one syllable yet it conveyed her genuine sympathy.

"She's um... at the hospital and _I_," his voice broke and he sat down heavily at the kitchen table. "I don't know if she's going to be okay."

"_I'm so sorry, _baby brother_."_ Her voice was soothing, the old moniker rolling off her tongue in the language of their youth.

"Boian... he's dead."

He heard the breath leave her, the little hiccup as she tried to suppress a sob.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"_This war has casualties." _

"Do you have a plan?"

"_Not quite... I... this isn't... there isn't a manual for this,"_ she said. _"I'm working on it." _

"I'm coming to you."

"_What? No." _

"Yes," he said sternly. "This is my war as much as it is yours. We do this together, _big sister_."

She was silent for a long moment. _"This is my disposable cell. Call this number when you leave Los Angeles." _

"I will."

"_I love you, my brother. Please. Be safe." _

It was odd, they'd reconnected for such a short and volatile time and yet... he had no doubt that her words were absolutely true. She loved him. She wanted to protect him... and he wished to do the same for her.

"Love you too. Don't get killed before I get there."

"_Way to jinx it,"_ she replied with a little half-sob, half-laugh.

::

**Thanks for reading :)**


	32. Chapter Twenty Nine

Logan was thankful for the fresh change of clothing. They'd each brought with them one full set of clothing, but that was it. He felt more comfortable in his own jeans (thankfully Nicoleta had washed them, heck, she'd even ironed them) familiar and well worn was rather comforting with everything that was going on. The plain white t-shirt he hadn't asked the origins of, but considering it was a mens shirt, and it wasn't Boian's size, he was pretty sure it had once belonged to Alex Piascovschi and he was trying not to think about being in a dead man's shirt. He tried to tame his shaggy dark hair, but gave up on it quickly, it always ended up doing it's own thing anyway.

He stood close to the door, but didn't hear Hunter on the phone so he figured she was done with her private conversation and he was clear to come out.

"I should run out and get...some...supp- what happened?" He changed tactics when he got close enough to see the tear tracks on her face.

She was clearly trying not to cry, quickly wiping her face. He sat down on the bed beside her, and her eyes followed him, the blue shining beautifully with tears. She let out a sob and it made his heart twist.

"Oh, honey," he wrapped his arms around her and she leaned against him, open to the comfort he was providing. He wished he could take away her hurt. He figured in her lifetime, she'd bore more than her share. He gently pulled her hair elastic out, and soothed his hand over her long dark hair. "What happened?"

She wasn't yet able to speak coherently and though she tried at first to explain, she quickly gave up giving a frustrated gesture.

"It's okay," he soothed and she loved the calming quality of his voice- when he so wanted it to be calming anyway. "Let it out."

And so she stayed in the safety of his arms, crying for whom she had lost... and before even being able to tell Logan exactly what happened, she fell asleep in his arms to the steady beat of his heart.

::

Callen was in the hospital early in the morning. He was dressed in jeans and an oversized hoodie, his bandaged hands were shoved in the big pocket at the front, he tried to keep his head down, the swelling in his face had gone down but he still looked like he'd lost a fight in a bad way.

He found the small waiting room and Hetty was sitting with her back straight, hands folded in her lap, dressed in the suit from the day before.

Deeks was pacing, and appeared to be an emotional wreck. He still had traces of blood on his arm so he hadn't done a good job of washing up, there was more of it on his shirt, his jeans. His hair was dishevelled. The look of desperation in his eye could make another man cry, Callen had to look away.

Since Hetty looked more put together, he went to her. "How is she?"

Hetty very slowly looked up, her eyes rather devoid and frankly it scared the crap out of him. "We don't know."

"Still nothing."

"Still nothing," she repeated and turned to look at Deeks, who was still pacing. His hand pushed his hair back but he didn't falter in his stride. She turned back to Callen. "How is Nicoleta?"

Callen shrugged. "Suppressing it? She's kept herself busy since it's happened."

Hetty gave a little nod. "I suspect that by now you know where your sister is."

"Yes."

"_And_?"

"I'm going to join her."

Hetty shut her eyes and sat a little straighter. "You must take Mr Hanna with you."

"I will," Callen said and caught the surprise on his boss's face. "I'm not exactly in top form, Hetty. This is more than me. This is Amy. I have to make sure she's safe. I can't let her do this alone."

"Do what exactly?"

"Well... we don't really know yet... but we're going to figure this out."

Hetty turned when Deeks punched the wall with the side of his fist and cursed angrily before continuing his pacing. "You should talk to him."

"And say what?"

"You are the team leader, Mr Callen," she replied looking over at Callen. Frankly, she herself had tried but Mr Deeks had been beyond her reach. "He needs you."

Callen patted Hetty's shoulder and stood. Everything was getting that achy feeling back and he knew he still had to wait another few hours before he got to take more pain pills. He walked over to the detective and stepped in the way of his pacing to make him stop. Deeks looked down at the Special Agent-in-Charge. "What do you want, Callen?"

Callen remembered Deeks taking care of him when he'd been drunk and angry at the world. "I was going to ask if you were okay, but I know that is a stupid question."

"No shit."

"None of us are okay, Marty."

Deeks stared at him.

"_I'm_ not okay. Kensi shouldn't..." Callen looked at his own feet when his voice broke off. "She's family. My family and... and it's my feud that put her in the crosshairs."

"There is no way any of us were staying behind," Deeks said quietly as he leaned his shoulder against the wall, now that he'd stopped a moment he was absolutely exhausted. "You were in trouble."

"You shouldn't have-"

"It's what _family_ does," Deeks cut him off. "And don't tell me you aren't about to pull some dangerous bs because Hetty's already told me where Hunter is. You're going because she's family."

Callen nodded.

Deeks looked at the doors as if expecting them to open, but they didn't. He turned back to Callen. "I... I can't follow this time. I have to stay with her."

"I didn't expect you to," Callen replied. "This is exactly where you need to be."

"Yeah," Deeks said softly.

"I'll call your cell when I'm in Romania once I get a new disposable."

"Hopefully by then there will be something to tell, they're taking too long."

Callen's stomach twisted painfully. "She'll be okay," he said putting his hand on Deeks's shoulder. "She's too damn stubborn not to be."

Deeks managed a little lopsided grin. "Yeah, yeah, she is."

"I have to go."

Deeks nodded.

"Hey, G!" Deeks called when Callen was nearly at the door. He paused and turned around to face the flustered detective. "Come home in one piece, okay?"

Callen gave him a sharp nod and headed out the doors.

::

She woke up slowly. Her head ached from her minor breakdown. Ambient noises of the room were the first thing to come to her. There was a television on in one of the neighbouring rooms. The mini fridge was emitting a low hum. There was the steady beat of a heart under her ear. She blinked and realized she was half sitting up, leaning on Logan who was leaning against the headboard, his eyes shut. She was staring, rather fascinated by his long dark lashes when a little smile came upon his face. "See something you like?"

She stared a bit, wondering how the heck he knew she was looking at him. "It's not fair when boys get nice eyelashes," she said groggily. "Women coat theirs with all kinds of stuff to make them longer, darker."

His arm around her tightened a bit as he shifted slightly and then settled.

"Oh," she sat back up. "I was leaning on you."

"I'm fine," he insisted quickly his eyes opening to meet hers, his hand cupping the side of her face. "How are you?"

She realized that their circumstances pushed them together, he could have left by now if he wanted but he was still there. Whatever it was that was going on between them, it was moving faster than any relationship she'd ever had, and yet in it's short time it managed to be more genuine. And it wasn't a relationship. It wasn't. They were just... _friends_... who apparently didn't have much of physical boundaries... or emotional ones either.

She gave her head a shake, blamed her thoughts on the state of her mind. She'd lost Boian. Vivian was hurt. Her brother was coming to Romania, which was possibly the most dangerous place in the world for him.

"They uh, they got Vivian back." As if sensing her distress despite the tough facade she tried to put on, he pulled her back to his chest and she let him. She was so exhausted, so tired of being strong. His hand was light as it played with the strands of her hair and it was incredibly relaxing.

"How is she?"

"Okay... there wasn't really... specifics given. Kensi is injured... sounds critical and..." Lauren tried to stop the tears, she told herself that she was a strong woman, that the tears didn't do anything, they weren't going to bring him back. "Boian is dead," her voice went up, out of her control.

He pulled her closer and she was so grateful that she had him to lean on, even if she couldn't admit it out loud. "It's okay to grieve, Amy," he told her softly. "I won't think you're any less of a badass."

She smiled, just a little and then allowed herself to take a moment and just lay there.

::

"I did it," Eric was wide awake with the assistance of four coffees in quick succession and a double espresso made expertly by Nell.

"I knew you could!" Nell scooted closer to him on the couch.

"Well, Quinn didn't make it easy to get into her conversation logs," Eric sighed. He wished he could have gotten in hours ago. He rubbed his eyes and then put his hands back on the keyboard. "Lets see what we got here."

Nell chewed on her lip as she sat close to Eric, both of them staring at the same laptop screen. The front door opened and Nell jumped away from Eric, grabbed her glock and whirled around.

"Woah, Jesus, put that down," Callen said with his hands up.

Nell let out a breath and flicked the safety on.

The commotion had woken Sam who had been snoring on a couch far too small for him. He sat up, rubbed his eyes and assessed the situation. He ignored Nell with the gun seeing that Callen was the 'intruder.' "Where did you go?"

"Hospital, no news."

Sam cursed under his breath. "When are we leaving?" Sam already knew about the plan to go to Romania. He thought it was likely a bad idea... but he'd go along with his partner on it.

"It has to be soon. I don't trust my sister to sit still and wait."

"I was able to get you two on a cargo flight," Nell said. "Won't be a luxury, that's for sure, but it leaves in a few hours... and there isn't security," she ended coyly. "Like, say... you wanted to bring some weapons with you..."

Sam grinned at the petite woman. "I like the way you think." He hated buying guns off the street.

"There better be room for one more." Everyone turned to Vivian in the doorway. She was in a pair of black bootleg jeans, her top was a black button up, red camisole underneath. Her eyes were fiercely determined. A .45 Colt Revolver was in her right hand.

Callen had the strong feeling that she wasn't about to take no for an answer and a woman like that would find her own way. He figured at least if she came with them, he could keep an eye on her. "We'll make room," he said and shot a look at Nell who gave a nod.

She tucked the gun into the back of her pants as she walked over to join the group. "Good."

"Are you sure..." Callen trailed a bit before digging in. "That you're up for this?"

"I've spent most of my life avoiding this war. I wanted no part of it. I was no danger to any of them. But they have taken from me," her voice was filled with pain. "They have taken my brother, my lover, and now my father. I will no longer stand back and allow this war to take what little I have left. I will fight, I will defend it."

Callen couldn't help but admire her power of will. She had to still be in a considerable amount of pain but still, she stood there before him, ready to do whatever was necessary to protect that which she had left. He gave her a nod before turning to the techs. "Did you guys get any-"

"Oh shit." Everyone turned to lookat Eric. Eric rarely swore.

Nell put the gun down and sat beside her partner. "What is it?"

"Harris knew."

"About what?" Nell asked him.

"About Lauren Hunter really being Amy Callen. Looks like for a lot of money, Harris switched from being a contact of Hunters, to giving information to Quinn. Quinn knew Amy was still alive."

"So... do the Comescus?" Nell asked worriedly.

"I'll have to dig some more, I can't be sure," Eric replied looking up at his standing partner. "You start working on her phones, I'll keep working the emails."

Callen and Sam shared a look. Callen pulled out his phone and a loose piece of paper that he'd written the disposable cell's number on. "Pick up, pick up, pick up."

::

Logan quickly grabbed the ringing phone and flipped it open. He looked to Amy who was once again sleeping on his chest. He half-smiled and answered. "Yeah?"

There was silence on the line, a bit of static. _"Logan?" _

"Yeah," Logan placed the voice. "G."

"_Where's Amy?" _

"Sleeping," he responded having no inclination to wake the poor woman up if he didn't really have to. "What do you want?"

"_We unearthed some new information." _

"What kind?"

"_The kind that pertains to my sister." _

Logan picked up the frustration in the man's voice. "Well, lets hear it."

"_Let me talk to Amy." _

"She's sleeping."

"_So you said." _

Hunter's blue eyes flickered open and looked up at him. She made a 'give me' motion with her hand and Logan sighed before handing it over. She fumbled with it a bit, put it on speaker and then set it on the night table.

"'Ello?"

"_Amy. You okay?" _

"Tired," she replied feeling rather comfortable in Logan's arms. She didn't have any desire to move. "What's happening? Are you leaving Los Angeles?"

"_In a couple hours, we have a cargo flight." _

"We?"

Silence for a second. _"I'm bringing Sam..."_

"And..."

"_Vivian too." _

Hunter cursed quietly.

"_Look, we got some information off of Quinn's computer. Jakob Harris, he sold you out." _

"What?"

"_He told Quinn your real identity." _

"Do you think she passed that information on?"

"_I don't know. Be safe. I'll call you when we land." _

"Yeah, okay, you too." She hung up the phone and looked at Logan. "What do you think?"

"I think we should be safe here," he replied. "After the airport, everything has been under my name."

"Yeah, but Harris was the one to send you to me."

"Your brother didn't say anything about me."

Hunter mulled it over. "We can't stay here. Lets pack up, we have to get supplies anyway, we'll... we'll find somewhere else. Maybe someplace abandoned- no check ins, no ID's needed."

"If that's what you want."

She nodded a few times and forced herself to sit up on her own, she immediately felt a little chilly. "Lets move."

::

**Thanks for reading :)**


	33. Chapter Thirty

**Okay, so forget Sunday updates. This story has taken me a while and I feel bad for the wait between updates so I'm trying to focus a bit more on this story, I'm putting out new ones whenever I can, Sunday or not. **

::

Logan and Hunter sat on the hood of a car she'd stolen. He had taken the entire morning in stride, she was a damn good thief. By the time he'd gone and gotten them coffee and breakfast, she had a car, two sets of clothes for each of them, a revolver and a berretta. He didn't ask where she got the guns, figured it was best he didn't know. He took a sip of his coffee and looked over at her. She was beautiful, but there was more to it than that. She was intelligent, loyal to the point of insanity, bullheaded (he couldn't figure out why that stubborn trait was so attractive) and strong both emotionally and physically. She was really something else.

She looked over and their eyes locked for a second. Her eyebrows drew down. "Do I have something on my face?" Her hand went to her lips but he shook his head. She stared back a second longer before she took a sip of her coffee. She was silent for a moment before she looked back to find his eyes still on her. "Well, what?"

He just smiled and took a sip of his coffee.

"You are such an instigator," she muttered, both hands wrapped around the cup of hot liquid that was keeping her hands warm.

"Am not," he replied.

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are... see, you just instigated that."

"No, you did."

"I did not!"

He grinned at the angry flush on her cheeks. "Did too," he whispered before taking a sip of his coffee.

She wisely stayed quiet this round but glared at him to let him know she was annoyed.

"How much longer till they land?" He asked nodding his head to the chainlink fence, beyond it was an airstrip for cargo planes.

"Not sure, should be within the hour though," she replied. "Did you get anything else to eat?"

"Uh, yeah," he replied holding out his coffee. "Hold this a sec."

She held it as he went back into the car and pulled out a grocery bag, he returned and put it on the hood of the car and she returned to him his coffee. She looked through the bag, there were a few chocolate bars, a few bags of chips, a package of two cookies, and a muffin.

"Not much for nutritional value," she muttered taking the muffin and checking what kind it was. Carrot. She wrinkled her nose.

"It was a small convenience store, you're lucky I got what I did."

She passed him the muffin and took the cookies instead.

"What?" He asked unwrapping the baked good of questionable origin. "You have something against carrots?"

"Only when they're cooked. Or baked."

He took a small testing bite, wasn't bad. "What kind of a rule is that?"

"My rule," she replied. "They should be raw and eaten with ranch dip, it's the only way to do it."

He smiled. "I'll remember that."

::

Nell carefully walked into the room carrying her fresh, piping hot cup of coffee. She was on her sixth of the morning- and she didn't even really like coffee but she needed a little pick-me-up to stay awake.

Despite the fact that both she and Eric decided that they needed rest and they could both sleep on the couches- him the long one, her the short one- she hadn't been able to fall asleep. Her mind just would not stop... so she decided if she was to be up all hours of the night she would be productive for that time.

The laptops were set up on the coffee table by the couch that Eric was sleeping on. He didn't move at all in his sleep, so she'd taken to sitting by his feet where there was room for her to sit and work. She slowly sat down on the couch, and gently blew some of the steam from her coffee. She took in a inhaled the lovely scent of coffee and allowed herself to close her tired eyes for just a second.

Eric jolted awake and it startled Nell, she spilled her coffee on her blouse and a little bit on her jeans. She let out a yelp, quickly put the mug down on the table and tried pulling her shirt away from her skin, but it was too tight and it was burning so she just pulled the damn thing over her head and put her hand over where she'd been burned. "Shoot," she muttered feeling the heat where the coffee had soaked through.

"Uh..."

She turned and locked eyes with Eric who flushed a little and looked somewhere over her shoulder. She looked down at herself, she had on a fairly simple emerald green coloured bra, her jeans were a little baggy and slung a little lower than they should on her hips, expanse of skin and the small scar from where she'd gotten her appendix taken out when she was eleven. She could feel her face heat up in embarrassment.

"I... ah... you startled me," Nell tried to explain. "And I... the coffee was hot and I burned myself so I..." she bit her bottom lip. The nerves and embarrassment had her words coming out all jumbled but she trusted her partner to understand exactly what she was trying to say. "This was my last clean shirt."

Nicoleta chose that moment to walk in, she stared a moment and both techs stared back like deer caught in headlights. "Should I come back?"

"This isn't what it looks like!" Nell said quickly.

Nicoleta raised an eyebrow. "So you didn't just spill hot coffee on your shirt? Do tell me what it is then."

Nell wanted to die of embarrassment. "I...uh..."

"That is what happened," Eric responded for Nell. "Might you have an extra shirt?"

"Yes, come Nell, we'll find you something," Nicoleta turned on her heel and Nell quickly followed the woman but could feel Eric's eyes on her back.

::

The coffee was long gone, as was the muffin, the cookies, and the chocolate bars. There were a few bags of chips but both Logan and Hunter were feeling the effects of a sugary breakfast.

"That was a terrible idea," Hunter said.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Logan muttered. He hadn't eaten much while healing, mostly he slept all day so the coffee, the chocolate and the carrot muffin wasn't sitting well with him at all. "Why did I eat that second chocolate bar?"

Hunter shrugged. "Because you're a moron."

"Gee, thanks."

She smiled.

::

Hetty woke to a tap on her shoulder. Disoriented she opened her eyes only to find the world had gotten blurrier.

"Took your glasses off while you were sleeping." Deeks's voice was quiet, he was sitting on the table.

She sat up, the scent of coffee reaching her as Deeks handed her back her glasses. She got them on and the blonde detective came into clear focus. There were dark circles under his eyes, his lips were in a stern line and he held out a mug of tea.

"They only had the paper stuff," Deeks said holding a mug of coffee in his hands. "Sorry."

She fiddled with the string attached to the tea bag, it wasn't like she expected the hospital to brew a good pot of tea anyway. She took a testing sip, Earl grey. "That's quite alright, Mr Deeks. Has there been news?" She figured if he was waking her, there must have been.

He nodded a little and then took another sip of coffee. His eyes didn't meet hers, they looked somewhere over her right shoulder. "The... uh... the shot it skimmed the side of her skull and-" He stood and turned away from her, his arm raised and she knew he was wiping away stray tears. He took a moment to collect himself before he turned back to her. "There is this brain pressure so they've done a decompressive craniotomy or I think that was what it was called, anyway... they've..." he stopped a moment, fidgeted, his teeth grinding before he sat back down on the table across from her. "They've re... removed part of her skull because her brain has swollen. They tell me it will relieve the pressure." His thumb and forefinger pinched the bridge of his nose. "She's critical, we can't see her and the doc said that if... if she survives the next twenty four hours he might be able to give us more information."

Hetty tried to keep her emotions off of her face, but it wasn't an easy task. The thought of potentially losing an agent made her feel ill. She placed her hand over one of Deeks's and he looked over at her with lost blue eyes. "Then we wait."

He nodded.

::

"Thank you," Nell said. She was wearing one of Nicoleta's sweaters, the plum colour was nice but she had to roll up the sleeves a bit.

"Not a problem," Nicoleta replied. "Are you two together?"

"Eric and I?" Nell's eyes widened. "Whaa? Eric? Me? Me and Eric? No, no. We're not _together_, we're just partners. Like... _work_ partners," Nell stressed. "I so do not have a thing for Eric. We're partners, _totally _professional."

Nicoleta cracked the first smile since her husband had been killed. "Yes, okay," she replied disbelievingly. "Word to the wise though my girl, for you seem very smart," Nicoleta placed her hands on Nell's shoulders. "We only have so much time. We never know when our loved ones will be_ ripped _from us." Nicoleta's eyes welled with tears and Nell found hers welling in empathy. "Do not let time pass without letting them know exactly how much you appreciate them."

With that, Nicoleta left her and Nell sat down in the over plush chair and let the words sink in.

::

The three figures coming toward them had both Hunter and Logan sliding off the roof of the car.

"Vivi," Hunter said under her breath as she got a good look at the other woman. The slash on her face was held together with butterfly stitches, her eyes were lit up with fury. "I'm so sorry, Vivian."

The woman's jaw tightened and she looked past Hunter, eyes up, quick blinking. "What has happened, happened."

Hunter understood Vivian's avoidance of talking about the situation, it was easier to be angry than it was to breakdown. Hunter, not for the first time, was grateful that Logan had been there for her when she had gotten the bad news. She turned to her brother and they were both unsure of what to say to the other.

"You okay?" Callen finally asked.

She nodded. "How was the flight?"

"Bumpy."

"I hate to break up the chit-chat," Logan said. "But we've been hanging out here for a couple of hours waiting for you guys to land. Might be best we don't stay out in the open any longer than necessary, yeah?"

"Agreed," Sam replied with a nod. "This us?" he pointed to the run down car Hunter had jacked.

"Yeah, doesn't look like much, but it got us here," Hunter replied with a little shrug.

"Do we have a place to stay?" Vivian asked.

Hunter and Logan looked at one another. Hunter nodded and Logan rolled his eyes.

::

"So..." Sam said looking around the abandoned warehouse. Plenty of open space, dusty, a bathroom to the right, an old desk to the left and a couple of wooden planks in the corner. Wasn't much of anything. "What's the plan?"

"The plan is to cripple their finances," Logan replied quickly, his eyes turning to Hunter as if he was waiting for her to interrupt and change to a bloodier plan.

She nodded sharply. "If we can get the criminal enterprises they financed to turn on them..."

Callen nodded as he took in his surroundings. "Sounds like a smart move... but how are we going to find out who they pay rolled?"

"We're still wor-"

"I'm going undercover," Hunter cut Logan off and earned herself a hard glare from him.

"What?" Callen shook his head. "No, no way. If Harris sold you out to-"

"Quinn. Quinn didn't send that information on," Hunter said confidently. "She wouldn't have done it until she knew where I was so that no one could take the kill from her."

"You don't know that," Logan argued angrily.

"You can't prove that I'm wrong either," Hunter replied. "There is only one way to find out if my alias, Ilena Vadim was compromised. I'm going in."

::

**Thanks for reading :)**


	34. Chapter Thirty One

Logan and Sam had gone out for supplies. The warehouse where they were bunkered down was drafty and every footstep echoed as Callen paced with his phone Eric's number dialling. He paused briefly to look over at his sister who was sitting with her back against the wall, her knees up to her chin, she stared blankly at the floor. Vivian was over by a semi-boarded up window and was looking out to the street.

"_This is Eric." _

The voice in his ear had him focussing on his current task. "Callen, we've landed and met up with the others."

"_Everyone okay?"_

"Yeah," Callen replied. "Any news on Kensi?"

"_Not that I've gotten, but you should check in with Deeks." _

"I will after this call."

"_You guys have a plan?" _

"It's a dangerous one." Callen didn't like the fact that his sister was going to risk her life to try and use an old alias. Ilena Vadim shouldn't be returning to the Comescu compound. "Can you find out who the Comescu have business ties with?"

"_I could get some, whatever ones are legitimate. Businesses financed under-the-table it's doubtful I'll be able to get any information on. Sorry, G." _

He figured that was the answer he was going to get anyway. "Alright, get the legitimate businesses... we... we have another plan for the others."

"_Which is?" _

"Ilena Vadim."

There was a moment of silence, some static and then a soft curse. _"Really?" _

"Yeah."

"_But Quinn-" _

"It's a risk we have to take." It was hard to say, hard to accept and yet he couldn't think of a better answer. Right now he was trying to think of a way to safe guard his sister when she did go in. He had a few ideas, but nothing that had any guarantees. He told himself it was just another job but there was no denying that this was personal and he was afraid it was clouding his judgement. "Just... work on the business angle for now. Call this number when you have something."

"_Will do. Be safe." _

"We always are."

He heard a disbelieving scoff before the line cut off.

::

"Who was that?" Nell asked coming in balancing two plates of sandwiches.

"Callen. They've arrived safely and met up with Hunter and Logan."

"That's good," Nell replied coming to sit beside him.

Nell was pretending that nothing had happened, and he was doing his best to follow her example...but he was having a difficult time concentrating. He knew a few things now, like green looked really good against her fair skin. He wanted to ask about the tiny scar that marred her flesh. He knew this was the kind of visual that would haunt his dreams and make him more tongue tied than usual.

"Eric?"

"Huh? What?"

Nell raised an eyebrow. "I asked if Callen gave us anything to look into."

"Oh, yeah, I... uh... yes, the Comescus legitimate businesses and any shady dealings we can find."

"Most shady deals would be kept under the table as much as possible," Nell mused. "Perhaps if there was a big payout we can match it with a sudden influx of another business."

"That would be a big guessing game and take time we don't have."

"Well we're just going to have to work double time then!" she caught the look Eric was sending her. "What aren't you telling me."

"Hunter's going undercover."

Nell shook her head. "She can't."

"She shouldn't," Eric corrected. "Remind you of anyone?"

"Well it's obvious they're both Callens."

"No kidding," Eric responded, shaking his head as they got to work. He tried to keep his eyes on his screen but his mind was threatening to wander.

::

Deeks was sitting outside of the hospital. He'd left for a few hours, gone to take a shower, get into a fresh pair of clothing, see his dog and take him to the doggy-sitter two doors down. He'd returned to the hospital. He took a gulp of the coffee he'd gotten before returning- he was sick of the hospital sludge- and it burned all the way down his throat.

There was a dark haired woman in stylish clothing, at first glance she looked a bit like Kensi and his heart did a quick flop. She was pushing a stroller, the kid inside looked to be only a few months old. The baby started to cry and the mother stopped and walked around to the front, she cooed and ran her fingertips over the babies belly for a few moments, the baby calmed and the woman gave the infant the pacifier before she started pushing the stroller past him and through the automatic doors.

The phone in his pocket rang and he lifted his hip a bit to dig it out. He didn't recognize the number but figured out who it was pretty quick. "Hey," he answered.

"_Hey Marty. How is she?"_

Deeks could hear Callen's worry over the line. "Swelling is down. Other than that, the doctors can't tell me much yet."

"_Swelling down is good." _

"Yeah," Deeks agreed. "Still can't see her though." That was the worst. Unable to see the proof that she was still alive. It was twisting him up, ripping him apart. She was his partner, he should have done something.

Vividly, he was back in that house, gun drawn, hyper aware of every sound. Nicoleta went left. Kensi went right and he went down the middle. He was aware of Kensi's every step. The scraping sound had him whirling around just in time to hear the crack of a gun being fired and then there was a line of blood that cut through her long dark locks and Kensi, who's eyes had been on him went blank and she crumpled to the ground.

"_Marty? Marty? Deeks!" _

Slowly Deeks became more aware of the present and he gave his head a firm shake.

"_Answer me, damn it." _

"Sorry, what was that Callen?"

There was a blur of gibberish that Deeks didn't understand, probably another language and from how vehemently Callen was spewing the words Deeks guessed they were vicious curses. After a moment the cursing stopped and there was a sigh that seemed to bear the weight of the world. _"Nothing,"_ Callen said finally a little softer. _"How's Hetty?" _

Deeks considered the question for a moment trying to figure out how best to answer. It wasn't like him to think so much about what he was going to say but his head was in such a state that everything had to be carefully considered. "She's like a gargoyle." It slipped out but he didn't regret it when he heard the weight of their stress crack under Callen's rare laughter which prompted a little smile out of Deeks himself.

"_Keeping watch?"_

"Yeah, something like that. Quiet, like stone."

"_And how are you doing?"_

He thought about lying. He thought about telling the truth. Both were cut off by Hetty coming out of the hospital, her eyes immediately locking onto his. "G? I've got to go."

"_What's going on?" _

"Not sure, can I reach you at this number later?"

"_Yeah." _

Deeks didn't continue with formalities, he just hung up and went to Hetty.

::

Callen hung up the phone and shoved it in his pocket. He realized half way through telling Deeks what was going on, on their end that the detective hadn't been paying any attention. He couldn't blame him. Callen himself was having difficulty focussing with all that was going on. Kensi in the hospital. His sister going undercover.

His eyes went to his sister who appeared to be sleeping, her chin resting on her arms that were on her knees, it didn't look comfortable by any means but she seemed dead to the world.

He looked over to find Vivian standing at the semi-boarded window, looking out. She quickly wiped her face and folded her arms back over her chest. Without really thinking about it, he found his feet taking him over to her. His hand ran over her shoulder and she turned to look at him.

"How are you holding up?"

She stared at him one of her eyebrows slightly raised. He could read the look.

"Stupid question?"

She nodded and her eyes retreated to look back out at the street.

"How's your arm?"

"It's fine."

He just stared until she sighed and turned to him. "It hurts like a bitch, is that what you want to hear?"

"No, I just..." Callen ran his hand over his head, the swelling in his face had gone away but the bruising was wicked.

"I'm aware of my limitations," she turned slightly to lean her back against the wall. "My arm is messed up. Doc stitched me up good though and as long as I stick to the antibiotics he gave me he said I'll be fine."

He could tell the mask of strength was crumbling, that she was trying to fit all the pieces together, keep them together. She'd survived hours at the hands of Quinn being tortured, physically, emotionally. She'd witnessed her father be killed before her eyes. "Venice," he said catching her attention, her green eyes focussing on him. "I'm here. If you need me."

She stared for a moment longer before she took a step forward, and then another closing the space between them. She rested her head against his shoulder and his arms came around her automatically. He felt her sigh and her arms wrapped around him in return. "Can I just stay here a minute?" she asked in a particularly small voice.

He wanted to be able to make her feel safe. He held her closer and ran his hand over her long blonde hair. "As long as you need."

After a few minutes of holding her like that, soothing his hand over her hair he felt his shirt dampen with tears and the shake of her shoulders, a nearly smothered sob escaping her lips. He didn't have words to console her. He felt a horrible guilt, she was in this because of him, because of his last name, because of the war that went with it. She'd lost so much and yet, here she was still fighting along side him.

She sniffled a little and leaned away to try and dry the worst of her tears on the back of her hands quickly and near angrily. "Did you hear that?"

He went on high alert and stayed very quiet, listening to the sounds of the unfamiliar warehouse. Voices. Familiar. "Sam and Logan," Callen replied and Vivian rubbed her eyes trying to get rid of the last of her tears but there was nothing that could be done about the redness and shine.

The door opened and Callen peered around the corner of the L shaped interior. "Hey, just us," Sam assured as he and Logan walked in.

Hunter was up on her feet seeming a little disoriented as she looked around and then she frowned and looked directly at Logan. "I hope you weren't in charge of food."

He glared at her playfully. "Cute."

Callen's prepaid went off and he quickly pulled it out remembering how quickly Deeks had gotten off the line with him. He flipped the phone open and put it up to his ear. "Hello."

"_Hey,"_ Deeks's voice didn't seemed overly strained so Callen took it as a good sign. _"Figured that you'd want to know. Just had another chat with some of the doctors taking care of Kensi in the ICU. Swelling is still going down, if it continues at this rate by midnight it should be at it's normal size." _

Callen let out a sigh. "That's good. Anything else?"

Deeks was quiet a minute_. "Nothing you need to worry about." _

"Deeks."

"_They... they were just talking about the potential outcomes... but mostly it's a wait and see game. There isn't any point in talking about what could be. I'll let you know when she wakes up." _

Callen smiled a little. _When_ she woke. "Good."

::

Deeks sat back in the hospital chair after he finished up his call with Callen. Kensi had been shot on the right side of her skull. Doctors said the bullet skimmed near her temporal lobes which controlled things like hearing abilities and memory acquisition; the kinds of problems that came with damaging that part of her brain was difficulty recognizing faces, short-term memory loss, problems with long-term memory, potential increase of aggressive behaviours... there was more but after that his mind had shut down. All he focussed on was that she had to get better, wake up and start healing. The alternative just wasn't an option.

Across from him sat Hetty. He was grateful for her presence. She didn't even have to say anything, maybe she even sensed that he didn't want to talk, he wasn't ready... but she was here anyway and he drew strength from her.

Together in the hospital room they both sat there and started to wait once again.

::

Callen had finished relaying the information about Kensi's condition to the rest of the group. Sam clapped a hand down on Callen's shoulder. "She's as stubborn as you, she's going to come through this," he said confidently.

"Yeah," Callen needed the news, needed to believe that Kensi was going to pull through.

They continued to go through the supplies. There was duffle bags filled with clothing for each person, Sam knew Callen's size, Logan guessed fairly accurately at Hunter's, and both men argued about Vivian's size knowing how women would take it if you got the size too big or too small- suddenly it would be outrage, or sudden self-conscious behaviours.

Sam had picked up traditional Romanian food, already pre-cooked and the scent of it had everyone ravenous. It wasn't long before everyone had a box of food in their hands and was trading off cabbage rolls for a piece of sausage, passing cans of pop and little juice containers.

Vivian was sitting on a beam of wood supported by two cinder blocks, she hording the stuffed red peppers but was traded off a stuffed yellow pepper with Callen for a couple plum dumplings.

Logan was suspiciously stabbing his cabbage roll trying to see what the heck was inside and Hunter was trying to keep the grin off her face as she watched him. "Sarmale," Hunter said calling the dish by it's traditional name. "Has spice ground meat and rice in the middle, you can stop dissecting it now."

Logan looked over at her, they were both sitting on the floor with their backs against the wall. "Did your mom ever make this for you?"

Hunter was a little surprised by the question and could feel her brother's eyes on her, waiting for the answer. "Yeah... hers were terrible though."

Callen laughed. "Really?"

"Yeah," Hunter smiled at the memory. "You'd always flick them off your plate and into the potted tree mom had by the table."

Sam shook his head. "Even as a kid you didn't eat right."

Callen rolled his eyes and looked back to his sister. "Did she cook anything well?"

She nodded and bit her bottom lip. "Plum dumplings were the only thing she could make well... well, that and Ghiveci."

"What the hell is that?" Sam asked.

"Stew," Vivian was the one to answer as she poked at the stuffed red pepper. "It's got zucchini, eggplant, tomatoes... healthy crap..." A little smile played on her face. "Amy's sucks."

"Hey!"

Vivian shook her head. "Okay, okay, I hate eggplant." The smile faded to a frown. "Dad loved your Ghiveci. Guess it couldn't have been too bad, right?"

"Boian had good tastes," Hunter responded with her heart in knots.

"Except in shirts," Vivian responded, fond memories playing in her mind.

"Remember that one Christmas?"

Vivian laughed loudly. "Oh god, no, don't even mention it!"

"The reindeer-"

"The snowflakes-"

"The faux fur around the wrists."

"Oh god," Vivian wiped tears from her face, but this time they were from happy memories. "That was an awful sweater."

"What ever happened to it?" Hunter wondered out loud.

"Mom burned it in the fire place," Vivian responded with a big smile. "Whoops!"

The mood was light, and they all kept up the jovial banter and stories because they all knew the next day would be far more serious.

::

**Thanks for reading :) **


	35. Chapter Thirty Two

The Callen siblings were in each others faces arguing vehemently. Grigore's arms were crossed over his chest. Amy's hands were flying around, punctuating her words.

Sam, Logan and Vivian were all standing in a row watching the spectacle. Sam with a good degree of agitation, the argument had been going on for the better part of an hour after all and both siblings kept on circling around and around to the same points. Logan appeared to be rather amused by the entire display, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. Vivian occasionally shook her head or huffed out a breath of growing anger.

"Enough," Vivian was first to snap and was one voice both siblings turned toward.

"He is not going!" Amy growled pointing at Logan though her eyes were now narrowed at Vivian.

"Yes, he is!" Grigore argued back and Amy's attention snapped back to her brother. "The only way you're going into that compound is with some form of back up and he is the only one who won't be shot on sight!"

"It's too dangerous!"

"You're the one who brought him here!"

And thus the argument begun again,. Vivian threw up her hands, a clear sign of her giving up on the argument reaching an end anytime soon. She left them to it and walked over to the window.

Logan had tried to interject a few times in the beginning, since it was him they were arguing about. Grigore was insistent that his sister had back up, and brought up the fact that Logan wouldn't be recognized by the Comescu family. Amy didn't want Logan involved anymore than completely necessary. Grigore argued that it was necessary. Amy said she was fine on her own. Grigore said that she wasn't. Amy then went on the defensive and they kept circling around the issue.

Every time Logan tried to get a word in he'd either be brushed off, or apparently not heard, so he just gave up and let them tire themselves out with the argument. Ultimately the decision was his, not theirs. He was going, wether Amy liked it or not. He couldn't walk away from the entire situation, he couldn't walk away from her. _He just couldn't do it. _It would be so much easier on him if he could, but...

"He is not an agent, Grigore!" Amy spoke through clenched teeth, her hands in fists at her side.

"You're the one who dragged him into this!"

"Might I get a word in?" Logan asked but once again was ignored completely.

"I wanted to leave him in the states," Amy said. She made her hands straighten out and folded her arms over her chest to keep from resorting to violence. "He just followed."

Logan and Sam exchanged a 'what can you do' kind of shrug and shook their heads.

"We aren't getting anywhere like this," Sam said loud enough to catch his partners attention. "Good to see you have the sibling fights down pat, but we need to figure this out."

"I'm going," Logan said now that it was quiet enough for him to get a word in edgewise.

Amy turned her blue eyes, lit with her anger at him. "No, you're not."

"Yes, I am," he held up a hand to silence her before she could continue arguing. "Like you said, you can try to leave me, but I'll just show up at the door with flowers."

The anger died and tears took it's place. "Don't do this," she begged.

"Hey, no!" He pointed at her. "Don't pull that crying shit with me. You were angry two...seconds... damn it," he muttered as a tear fell down her cheek, her lower lip quivering. "This changes nothing," he said closing the little space between them and pulling her into his arms, his chin resting on her head. "I'm still going."

"Don't."

"I am. End of discussion. Introduce me to the family. You need another pair of eyes. If I don't go,you don't go._" _

"How the hell would you stop me?" She asked a spark of anger re-igniting.

"I'd shove you in the closet and put a chair under the handle until I figure out how to smuggle you back into the states."

She leaned back a little to look up at him. "The closet?"

He shrugged. "I work with what I'm given."

"Pain in the ass."

He smiled. "Deal with it."

With the argument settled, Callen walked over to Vivian near the window. "You okay with this?"

"Amy going in to the lions den?" Vivian stood rigid, her lips were pressed into a firm line, her eyes no longer held the light or playfulness that he had always associated with her. "No. I'm not, but I understand that we are out of options. This needs to end. We're all stuck in this awful limbo until it's over."

"Sam and I will be near by," he assured her, his hand light on her arm. "Logan is going in with her... we'll keep her safe."

Her eyes fell to his hand and she raised hers up to place it over his, her fingers tightening around his hand as if he grounded her. Her eyes met his once more, "I'm going to hold you to that, Blue Eyes."

::

"Most of them speak English, but it's not their first language. They'll likely only use it if they're talking to you. I'll try and translate as much as possible."

"Hell, might not even have to. If Quinn gave them a heads up, we'll both likely be shot dead."

She paused mid-step and he stopped a few steps ahead and turned back. He shrugged, "What?"

"What is wrong with you?" She asked, her little black heels clicking against the pathway. She wore a nice green dress that Logan had picked out. Her hair was down and a little wavy. She looked him over, jeans, black polo shirt, his hair as dishevelled as always. "You have issues," she decided.

"Fair enough, Ilena," he said trying to get use to the new name. "We've got someone watching us from the second story window, second from the left."

She looked up, smiled and waved. "Anton," she told Logan. "He's a cousin."

"Well," Logan said turning to step in front of her. "Lets give him somethin' to talk about." With that he pulled her to him, his lips claiming hers.

::

"I hate this plan."

"I know, you said that about twenty times," Sam replied. He'd been in the car with his grouchy partner for the better part of two hours, staking out the house before hand. Logan had just pulled up and walked around the car to open the door for Hunter, or Amy... or Ilena. Whoever she was. Vivian was at an internet café coordinating with Nell and Eric, she was also going to be getting the feeds for cameras and microphones planted by either Amy or Logan.

The partners watched as the two walked toward the house and Sam could feel the tension rolling off his partner. This was the sister he'd searched long and hard for. This was the last of his family. "I should have never let her do this."

"You got Logan to go with her."

Callen felt his palms get sweaty. He could be taken hostage, sit in a quarantine, drive in a manner that would be considered insane while chasing down a suspect, be in a stand off and his palms would never get sweaty, his heart rate would hardly kick up, he would keep calm, cool and collected. He was just that good. Sending his sister into the Comescu compound felt like sending her to her death.

He watched as Logan stepped in front of her, and kissed her. A second later he could feel his partner's stare. "Piss off."

"She is your sister, figured you might be regretting sending that guy in with her."

"He wants to keep her safe. That's all that matters."

"No defensive little brother shit?"

"Maybe later," Callen growled. He leaned forward in his seat as the door opened and he didn't realize it but he was holding his breath. His sister hugged the man who kissed her on both cheeks and welcomed her into the house. He shook Logan's hand and brought him in as well, and then the door was closed.

::

"They don't mix businesses. I think they keep money on the side," Nell said to the image of Vivian on her laptop. Nell was sitting a little uncomfortably in the ocean-side home. Eric was out getting supplies, and Nicoleta was in the kitchen. "We can't link anything even remotely illegal to the Comescu's."

"None of us really expected you to be able to," Vivian admitted pushing back some of her long blonde hair. She was sitting with her back up against the wall so Nell couldn't see much of the internet café the older woman was in- all she knew was they had a terrible choice of green paint. "We wouldn't send...Hunter in if there was another option." Vivian looked off screen, Nell assumed for potential threats. "Lets keep names off the books."

Nell nodded. "Anything else we can look into?"

"The cameras and microphone signals will be going to this computer," Vivian said. "I'll be recording and sending all information on to you two. Gr... G tells me you two are the very best at what you do."

Nell flushed a bit. "He did? He's not the kind of boss to hand out compliments like that."

Vivian's eyes lit up a little with interest. "And what kind of boss is he?"

The young analyst considered the question a moment. "Faithful." Vivian raised an eyebrow. "He trusts that you know your job and that you do it to the very best of your abilities."

"Hmm."

"What?"

"Nothing," Vivian said with a ghost of a smile. "Just thinking."

"You two... knew each other, right?" Nell asked Vivian, the webcam getting fuzzy as Vivian shifted in her seat but when she sat still the image cleared. "Like before... this mess."

"Yeah, we did... kind of. I mean... no names, just these nicknames we'd given each other. But... I looked forward to seeing him. And then I had to leave."

"Why?"

"I knew I was being watched. I... I didn't want him to be targeted because of me."

Nell found that her statement held a bitter kind of irony. She'd been taken, held by Quinn to get to Callen. Nell shook her head sadly.

"It's funny." Nell looked back at the screen, at the woman who looked so wistful. "I wanted to see him again... and this is how fate brought us back together... I guess I should be more careful with what I wish for." Vivian's finger absentmindedly traced the long scar on her face with a frown.

::

**Thanks for reading :) **


	36. Chapter Thirty Three

**I have returned! I am hoping that March is nicer to my schedule. Here is the best written chapter of the bunch all thanks to my lovely beta ****SilverSentinal21! Thank you so much my dear :)**

::

Oddly enough, Hunter liked the interior of the Comscu's family home. She loved the large rooms filled with the love and laughter of family, gallery styled pictures on the walls, the pitter-patter of little feet and the scent of home cooking. It shook her to realize she dreamt of a home like this; a home with a loving family, small children, memories and the safety that came with a normal life. It left her with a terrible longing that she struggled to push away, she had no room for distractions.

She spent a good deal of time receiving hugs from those who would kill her if they knew her true identity. It said something about the war, that they could love her as Ilena and would hate her as Amy.

Logan stuck close by her, she translated the shortened version of the conversations to him. A few of the young women in the family had taken to him, they spoke in English pausing every now and then to think of the proper word and he would keep the conversation friendly and impersonal. It surprised her that he adapted so well to the situation they'd found themselves in. He had the suave nature of a seasoned undercover agent and he used it to charm the family. She wondered if it was simply his nature to be so friendly, considering their history she doubted it. She watched him curiously wondering if there would be a time when he stopped surprising her at every turn.

A few children ran around, one stopping to tug on the skirt of her dress. "Ilena! Ilena!" The young girl reached up and Hunter felt a genuine smile tugging on her lips as she bent down to pick up the girl who had a mess of dark brown hair and sea green eyes.

"Stela," she hugged the girl tightly. "You've grown so big."

Stela smiled happily. "Who is he?" she asked in slow, careful English pointing her finger.

Hunter turned, but had already figured out who the girl was talking about. "That's Logan."

"Is he your_ boyfriend_?" She drew out the word with a big grin on her face, her eyes lit up.

"Uh..." She turned from the girl to look at Logan. He had a big smile on his face, amused by the situation. She felt her cheeks heat up. "Well," she found her voice once more. "Yes."

"Are you going to get _married_?" She drew out the word with a few claps of her hands.

Her eyes met Logan's and he smiled putting an arm over Hunter's shoulders. "Yeah," he whispered to the girl conspiratorially, "But don't tell Ilena, she doesn't know yet."

Her heart sped up when she looked over at him, he smiled at her and she felt her mouth go dry.

The little girl giggled and mimed zipping her lips.

::

Callen couldn't sit still, his leg jumped, his fingers tapped a one-two beat on the door. He wished he had some candy wrappers to keep his hands busy. His weary eyes burned, he hadn't slept much. Staring for hours on end at the sea-side house didn't help. He checked in with Vivian every half hour, but thus far they had nothing. The knot in his gut twisted painfully; his mind listed one terrible reason after another for the delay, his body broke out into a coldsweat of fear. Logic said that the family was welcoming them in, catching up with their 'Ilena' and grilling her new man. They probably wouldn't have a moment alone for hours. He rolled down the window and the sea breeze started to cool the car.

Sam spent half his time studying the house, watching windows, taking pictures of those who came and those who left. The other half, he subtly watched his partner. Callen's eyes were on the house but seemed a million miles away. The nervous body language and energy his partner radiated surprised him.

"She's done this before," he said in a soft and calm manner that he would use to soothe his own daughter.

"She also shot Alexia Comescu." Callen paused hearing the tremor of fear in his own voice. He took a moment to compose himself. "If someone-"

"There wasn't anyone left alive in that compound," Sam cut his partner off. "Nobody knows; her cover is secure. She's a trained agent. She's got back up. She's going to be fine."

Callen knew what his partner's logic made sense. Logic didn't matter though. For once, his heart overruled his head.

::

Eric tried to concentrate on digging deeper into the Comescu finances, despite knowing deep down that they were too smart to leave him a trail, he had to keep trying. Unfortunately, he kept getting distracted by this new discovery about his partner: Nell Jones talked in her sleep. Over the past hour, he'd been mentally kept track of everything she'd said while dreaming.

'I don't like pistachios.'

'Don't forget to carry the one.'

'Clown cars are cozy.'

Then she sang, _"Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star,"_ in a soft and sweet voice.

He worked his way through personal accounts of the Comescu family when she spoke again. "I just want them to come home." Her voice thin and pained. He looked over at her, her brow creased with worry and he unsure of what to do. He wanted to wake her but a few seconds later she seemed to relax once again, turned onto her side and let out a little sigh. Maybe she dreamt that they had come home. He decided to leave her be, she hadn't got much sleep since this thing started. He returned to his screen, his fingers hitting the keys with quick precision.

"Eric?"

"Yeah, Nell? Did you sleep well?"

"Eric?"

This time he turned to see she was still asleep and calling out for him. He sat there once again, unsure of what to do.

"Eric?" This time when she said his name, it was in the same pained voice as before.

He wanted to let her rest, but enough was enough. He left the computers and walked over to the small couch she had curled up on. He sat by her hips and ran his hand along her temple and into her hair. The touch seemed to soothe her so he did it again and she leaned into it as her eyes fluttered open. She stared up at him a second and didn't seem to be able to figure out why they were in such close proximity. "Eric?" she whispered groggily.

"You were talking in your sleep," Eric attempted to explain as he drew his hand back. "I didn't want to wake you but you seemed…" he paused a moment looking down at her. He didn't wish to cause her any embarrassment, nor did he want to make her thoughts linger upon the dreams that had scared her. Lying by still a lie. "You seemed frightened."

She winced. "I talked... in my sleep." She took a deep breath. "Oh boy. Um..." her face flushed red. "Like... like what?" Frankly, she was afraid to ask. She'd said some spectacularly embarrassing things in her time.

"Just... sleep stuff," he dismissed not wanting to cause her embarrassment.

"Oh God," she covered her face with her hands. "You're not even willing to admit what I said. Was it that bad? I feel like it was worse than that time my brother caught me sleeping on the couch singing _'MMMBop.__'_" He couldn't help but laugh. She peeked out at him from between her fingers. "Promise you won't tell anyone?"

He smiled and nodded. "I promise, Nell. Your secret is safe with me."

"I didn't... say anything very embarrassing though, did I?"

"Na," he replied, but she didn't believe him. "You did at one point sing _'Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.' _You have a really nice voice, by the way."

She let out a breath, it could have been worse. "So," she ran her hand through her hair, desperate to change the topic. "Has Vivian forwarded anything yet?"

Eric shook his head. "No, she hasn't received anything. I'm getting worried. Hunter and Logan should have had the microphones and cameras installed already."

"They won't want to draw suspicion to themselves," Nell insisted. "Sometimes the smart move is to wait it out."

"Hope they don't wait too long," Eric replied letting out a sigh. "Everyone is getting antsy."

::

While Hetty left to check on Eric, Nell and Nicoleta, the doctor returned. The swelling in Kensi's brain had gone down. They still listed her as critical, and kept her in the ICU, but the doctor had taken pity; he gave Deeks five minutes with his partner.

Deeks didn't want to waste a second of it, no pausing outside of the room, he just walked straight in but the sight of her made him freeze mid-step. He put the lid on his emotions and continued walking up to her bedside. He knew she wasn't really smaller than she the last time he had seen her, but she seemed small, frail, and vulnerable. Words he'd never associate with the vivacious, tough-as-nails Kensi Blye.

"I should have been closer," he said, his voice strained as his hands ran through his hair. "I should have protected you." He cursed. He paced. He placed both hands on the wall trying to focus on getting his breathing even. When calm, he turned back to her. He could let his guilt eat him up later, it wouldn't go anywhere and he only had three minutes left with her.

They doctors had shaved her head, but it didn't manage to detract from her beauty. He stared at the machines that she was hooked up to. He counted heartbeats, thankful for each and every one of them.

He put his hand gently over hers and leaned down. "I'm here partner. I'm waiting for you. You have to get better okay? Come on, Wonder Woman."

A moment later there was a gentle tap on the door and he knew his time ran out.

"I love you, Kens." He gave her hand a squeeze, hoped that she didn't actually need to hear him that she already knew.

::

Much of the family had gone to bed and Hunter gave a yawn, she excused herself for the night and took Logan's hand pulling him along with her. The door swung shutting out the noise from the dining room where they'd been sitting with a few others. She took a quick look around the sitting room, slate grey couches, red stained tables, wooden bookshelves lined the walls but there was no one in site. "Clear," she whispered. She walked over to the bookshelf and Logan walked over to one of the sitting areas and placed a microphone under a table and flicked it on. He returned to her as she turned on the camera and prayed it wasn't spotted.

"The others are in the bag," he whispered pointing over to the entrance way. They both walked over but their bags had been taken. "Think they went through them?"

"No, just took them to one of the rooms. Come on."

She lead him up the stairs, down the hall and the third door had a pink ribbon tied to it, her name written on it. She knew that Aishe took her bags up to the room. She pushed it open and pulled him in. "Which bag?"

"Green one," he said walking past her and crouching down in front of it. He fished through it till his hand hit a little box, he pulled it out and opened it, three more cameras and as many microphones protected by bubble wrap. He pulled out the cameras and passed them to her while he pocketed the microphones. "Dining room would be a good place."

"Those old men can talk for hours," Hunter responded with a small smirk. "They'll be in there until the women get up to go to the kitchen and start breakfast."

Logan stood to his full height and gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze. "I'm sure we'll think of something."

::

Vivian had finished her fifth cup of coffee by the time the first microphone activated, the sound in her headphones made her jump in her chair and ache all over. She cursed softly under her breath and looked around but no one was paying her any mind.

She pulled out her cell phone and called Callen.

"Everything okay?" He sounded stressed. She didn't like it. Amy's part in the mission put her stomach in knots. She didn't feel any better hearing his nerves.

"Yeah." she replied pushing back some of her blonde hair. She took a quick look around but no one paid her any attention. "Well... mostly."

"What is it?" He responded quickly, in full mission mode. Clearly he thought she was in danger. Guilt weighed on her shoulders for causing him to worry.

"I'm aching all over," she said lightly trying to alleviate the worry with levity. "I could use some ibuprofen. I'm hungry. I got to take a leak."

"Is that all?"

She could hear the smile in his voice and it had a little one forming on her lips. "No, it's not. Got one mic and one camera up and running. Hunter and Cole are okay, cover is secure. I haven't picked up anything yet. It seems that most have gone to bed. I expect more camera angles and microphones to be placed soon." She rubbed her tired eyes and then checked the watch on her wrist. It was close to two am, she tried converting it back, around... four pm...of the day before in Los Angeles. Right? She gave her head a shake. "I'm about to forward the data on to Nell and Eric, but I could really use a ten minute break here."

He was silent for a long moment and she waited patiently. "Okay," he responded finally. "I'll get a taxi. I'll see you soon."

"Thanks," she replied before hanging up. She had expected him to send Sam, figuring he wouldn't want to leave his sister in the house without him as immediate back up. She smiled, it told her that he wanted to check in on her, it also told her just how much faith he had in his partner.

::

"You always make the best tea," Nicoleta commented as the two women sat at the small table inside of the kitchen.

"It's something of a passion of mine," Hetty admitted. She had stayed hours upon hours in the hospital with Deeks. She had waited and waited for news on Kensi, but sitting around was never her strong suit. With Kensi's brain swelling down, she'd felt confident enough to check on the others under her charge. Nicoleta had lost so much, and she worried about her old friend.

Nicoleta nodded and took a small sip. "You've converted me to agave nectar. Sugar just isn't the same anymore." The woman was quiet for a moment and she stirred the tea slowly with a teaspoon. "I checked in with your… computer people?"

"Technical operators."

Nicoleta nodded. "When I checked with them, Vivian had yet to send them any new information. Amy and this new man of hers," Nicoleta's lips pressed tightly together. "He has gone into the compound with her."

"You don't sound as if you approve."

"She is like a daughter to me," Nicoleta snapped. "If they discover her true identity, they will kill her."

"She's a fine age-"

"I'm not calling her abilities into question," she cut Hetty off. "I'm saying that if this goes sideways, everything that we have done, all that we have lost will have been for nothing! They are out there fighting the battle we tried to protect them from."

"They are prepared," Hetty responded in a soothing manner. Nicoleta wasn't the only one worried. So much could be lost, and so quickly. She trusted her agents, trusted in their training, but even the very best agents could fall. Her mind returned to Kensi fighting for her life and she felt a chill run down her spine.

Nicoleta nodded. "I know. I just wish that after all that has been lost, that at least they would have been spared this weight." She took a sip of her tea. "I must go make arrangements for Boian."

The women heard two quick taps on the door before open and Nell's head poked in a little smile on her face. "We're online. First camera and microphone have been placed. Amy and Logan were both in frame for a moment, both seem fine."

"Their covers are secure then." Hetty let the relief wash over her.

Nicoleta nodded and stood, her hand resting on Hetty's shoulder. "Keep me informed, won't you?"

"Of course," Hetty responded and watched as Nell took a step back while Nicoleta walked out of the room.

Nell came in and shut the door behind her. "Did you get to see Kensi?"

Hetty frowned upon hearing the worry in the young analyst's voice. "No I didn't."

"Do you think she's going to be okay?" Nell asked trying to keep calm but her heart pounded with fear. She needed to know, but she feared the answer.

"Kensi is a strong woman," Hetty said standing to her full height. She walked over to Nell and took the young woman's hands in her own and gave them a squeeze. "She has so much to live for. She will fight."

Nell pulled one hand away, she fingered the thin gold chain on her neck and pulled it out from under her shirt, and held the tiny gold cross between thumb and forefinger. She shut her eyes in a quick and silent prayer. "She will be okay," she said as if her sheer force of will could heal the agent.

Hetty pat Nell's hand and they both went back into the living room to see what Eric had.

::

At three in the morning. If someone wanted to discover that 'Ilena' was really Amy it wouldn't be while they were all sleeping. He had felt confident enough to leave Sam in the car, and had caught a cab three blocks away. He gave the cab the address for the twenty-four hour internet café that Vivian had been working at.

As he walked by the large front window, he paused. Vivian was covering her mouth as she yawned, earphones on. Her hair was down, kind of wavy and she had changed where the natural part in her hair was, moving it over an inch so that her hair semi-covered the still angry red laceration on her face. He realized a second later that his hands were clenched in fists. He quelled the sudden rise of anger. Vivian shouldn't be tangled in the war, he could still remember her dancing barefoot on the beach, the big smile on her face, the warmth and love that seemed to just radiate off of her. She'd overcome so much, lost so much.

Callen feared that his decisions could spell disaster for the rest of this team. He knew his partner, knew Deeks and Kensi, knew how they worked together and separately. He didn't know how his sister worked and she had Logan, a civilian as back-up. He looked in the window at Vivian who managed to be just as tangled in the mess as he is. His guilt was a heavy burden to carry. If not for him, Quinn wouldn't have taken Vivian as leverage. If not for him, Kensi wouldn't be fighting for her life. If not for him his sister wouldn't be inside a house filled with people who would kill her if they knew the truth. He's a Special Agent-in-Charge for a reason, he's good at his job because he thinks with his head, not his heart. Fear had him in its clutches as he wondered if he was making the smart play, or the emotional one.

She looked to the window, her eyes locking with his. She smiled and raised her hand in a quick, silent greeting. He nodded his head and continued toward the door. The bell above the door jingled but no one paid him a single bit of attention. He walked over to her immediately. She stood pulling the headphones off. "Nothing of use yet. Be right back." She brushed past him in her hurry to get to the ladies room.

He shook his head and sat down behind the laptop. A video based messenger was on, but not currently in use. He recognized Nell and Eric's ID's. The program for the cameras and microphones was up, only one slot of each on. He watched the empty sitting room. He put on the headphones and heard nothing but white noise, occasional background laughter or chatter but nothing useful. Still, Amy and Logan had gotten them set up, and that meant that for now they were okay. At that time, that was all Callen could hope for.

::

**Thanks for reading :) **


	37. Chapter Thirty Four

**A/N: First and foremost a HUGE thank you to SilverSentenial21 for betaing, and just being awesome!**

**Also, I'm going to be visiting family for this week 03/17/13-03/24/13 so there likely won't be an update. I always think I'll get writing done when I go to visit but I rarely get much of anything done, so I guarantee nothing. **

::

Vivian splashed water on her face, she winced as she patted it dry with paper towel. The clean bathroom seemed like a small blessing. An unforgiving mirror reflected her image back at her. Her hands shook as her fingertips touched the bottom of the scar on her face. The memory ofseeing her adored brother lying on the steel slab in that cold room with a similar scar on his face, his closed eyes and the violence inflicted upon him made tears well in her eyes, her teeth grinded together and she slammed her fist down on the counter. Torn between anger and sadness she fought to keep calm instead. Getting emotional could have dangerous repercussions not just for her but for the others as well. She didn't wish to do anything that could jeopardize the plan, or the safety of friends, old or new.

"It's just a scar," she whispered through her clenched teeth, angry with her vanity. "Just a wound and it will heal." Her reflection taunted her, her eyes returned to the scar no matter how hard she tried to ignore it. Turning her back on herself she leaned against the counter and knew she needed to get back to Callen. She knew the scar would remain, surely become less noticeable but it would never go away. Quinn had left a permanent reminder of this war upon her flesh. While her blood still boiled that Quinn had gotten the better of her, she forced herself to leave the washroom.

The café was quiet, everyone kept to themselves and this early in the morning most people were in bed. A lone man sat in the corner with his laptop and a bored woman sat filing her nails behind the counter.

She walked past the counter and by the other man who had a big cup of coffee keeping him going. Her eyes went to Callen who had the headphones on and his eyes on the computer. She faltered for a moment, remembering him from another time, another place. The scent of the ocean, the feel of the sand beneath her feet, the easy companionship they had with one another. A companionship she'd longed for after she left. She had missed him so much despite knowing so little about him. During the days on Venice Beach leading up to her leaving she realized something; he was just as lonely as she was.

Perhaps he sensed her there, maybe his tradecraft had him looking around. In any case, his eyes met hers and he flashed her a smile. A smile so much like the past she physically ached for the simplicity of those days down on Venice Beach. Unable to find a smile to return she walked over. "Anything?" she asked as she sat down on the comfortable cushioned bench beside him, she'd been avoiding the uncomfortable wooden chairs at all cost.

He stared a moment. She'd seemed okay when she had gone into the bathroom and now she seemed a little distant, a bit angry, and there was a sadness in her gorgeous green eyes that he could drown in. "Nothing came into frame, I heard some voices," he responded his eyes studying her hunched over posture, her sad eyes, the determined press of her lips. "Men were arguing over football, nothing useful."

"I didn't think football was big in Romania," she mused.

"Football as in soccer."

"Ah," she replied.

"I'm going to run out, pick up some food from whatever is open." He wanted to stay and pick her brain, but knew she needed something to eat so his questions would have to wait. "Anything you really don't like other than eggplant?"

She smiled because he remembered her passing comment about not liking eggplant. "I won't touch turnips, beets, liver or oysters, anything else I'll live with."

He noticed the way that she held the arm where he knew that Quinn had stabbed her. He couldn't help but long for her, for the days of easy companionship and laughter. He desperately wanted to make some kind of connection, to give her some form of comfort. His fingers gently pushed back a stray strand of her long blonde hair and tucked it behind her ear. She'd gone completely still at his touch, a strange combination of curiosity and longing on her face. "I'll see if I can find some aspirin too," he said in a gentle whisper. His worry for her wellbeing leaked into his voice.

The angry red line on her face would be a constant reminder of the recent violence she'd survived, and of his own personal failure. Quinn should have never gotten to her. He should never have let Vivian go out on her own. Someone should have been with her. He knew that Quinn had taken Vivian to get to him, and it worked. He had walked into her trap and had become hopeless pawn in her game.

He would never forget a moment of time spent in that horrible basement room. When his vision had cleared, Vivian had been the first thing he had seen. The blood colouring the right side of her face. He could still hear her screams echoing in the back of his mind and it sent a shiver down his spine.

Quinn's taunt came back to him. _"She'll hate you... you'll hate yourself." _

Her eyes held his gaze for a long moment before she managed a small but genuine smile. "That would be appreciated."

That smile wouldn't be for him if Quinn had succeeded in breaking her. The memories of the basement faded and the memories of Venice Beach returned. She cocked her head to the side, a grin on her face as she waved her hand in front of his face and he took notice of the few missing fingernails. "Earth to Grigore," her voice had a touch of humour. "You with me Space Case?"

He grabbed her hand in his, also missing a few fingernails thanks to Quinn. "Yeah," he said with resolve. "I'm with you."

The smile he'd fallen in love with bloomed upon her face.

::

Hunter had gotten changed into a warm set of blue flannel pajamas. She stood in the kitchen waiting for a glass of milk to warm. She had told the men that she was having trouble sleeping and blamed the long journey for it. Logan had sat down at the table with the men and kept their attention so she could place a camera.

"And what is it you do Logan?" Pyotr asked rubbing his white beard.

They had decided due to Logan's civilian status they should keep his name and most facts as close to his real identity as possible to avoid slip-ups. He smiled at Pyotr. "Odd jobs," he said not wanting to give too much of himself away. "The economy isn't what it used to be."

Pyotr shook his head. "Strong young man such as yourself should have good employment." He looked over at Hunter who sipped her milk, the camera already planted. "Ilena deserves to be taken care of."

"Unchi Pyotr," Hunter's voice was accented as she spoke. "We do just fine," she said walking over, her hand sliding along the back of Logan's shoulders.

Pyotr shot his son, Marcel an unconvinced look.

Marcel had a head of thick dark hair, a full beard and dressed semi-casual in slacks with a button up grey shirt. His cheeks were flushed from the brandy he'd been drinking all night. "Young love, Tata," he laughed, "clearly you're too old to remember it."

"How did I end up with a son like you?" Pyotr asked the universe, shaking his head.

Logan finally got the microphone to stick to the bottom of the table and he sat back with a sense of relief. He looked up at Hunter and the now empty glass in her hand. "Do you think you can sleep now?"

"I sure hope so," she replied as she indulged herself in running her hand through his dishevelled hair. He shot her a little grin and she knew she'd be hearing about this later. Worth it, she decided, to feel close to someone again after so long.

::

Five in the afternoon in Los Angeles came with Chinese food that Nicoleta had brought back with her after making funeral arrangements for her husband Boian. The living room had become a mess of tech equipment, empty energy drink cans and coffee mugs.

"See," Hetty's voice resembled that of a reproachful second grade teacher. "This is why food and drinks are banned in ops."

Nell and Eric shared a look of guilt. They'd been so busy trying to push forward with their work that neither had tried to keep everything neat and tidy. This wasn't ops after all, but considering the fact that it is Nicoleta's home they knew they should have shown it the same respect.

"I'll clean it up right after dinner," Nell insisted as she broke apart the ends of the chopsticks.

"Don't worry about it," Nicoleta said sitting down on the loveseat beside Hetty cracking open a white take out container. "I don't mind cleaning."

"It is not your mess," Hetty said shaking her head.

"They have more important, time sensitive things to do!" Nicoleta replied, her sharp tone indicating that arguing would be a waste of time. "I will do it. It's best to keep the mind on other things." Sadness lingered in the woman's voice, and they all knew her thoughts were on her late husband.

Nell pushed her food around with her chopsticks. She always tried to put herself in the shoes of others, see things from new perspectives. Her eyes flicked over to her partner, and whilethey weren't the same as Nicoleta and Boian, he remained the closest male figure to her. She imagined losing him and her stomach twisted into knots. She imagined cradling his dead body and she felt tears prick her eyes. She imagined having to make funeral arrangements and she stabbed her chopsticks into the Cantonese noodles and put it on the table. An uncomfortable heat washed over her, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, her stomach gave a nauseous lurch, and she felt like breaking down into tears but wanted to remain strong. This hypothetical situation may never happen, and it still had this kind of power over her. She looked to Nicoleta who pushed her food around not showing any real appetite. She imagined losing her colleague, her best friend, a man she admired and admittedly had a crush on and the thought alone devastated her to the core. Nicoleta had been married decades to Boian, had two children, one of which had already passed on, they'd been husband and wife and she had lost him to this senseless violence.

"Hey," Eric's quiet voice came to her, along with a gentle nudge from his elbow to her arm. "You okay?"

Her throat still felt thick from her near tears. She didn't trust her voice, so she nodded instead.

He stared a moment and pointed at her noodles. "I thought you loved Cantonese noodles."

She opened her mouth, closed it and bit her bottom lip staring at him. As if he understood completely, despite understanding nothing he put down his food and put and arm over her shoulder. "I'm here."

His arm around her became a physical reminder that the horrible scenario in her head wasn't real. She took a deep breath, inhaling his unique scent and found herself calmed. A smile pulled at her lips, he always knew just what she needed to hear.

::

Hetty brought the extra Chinese food that Nicoleta had ordered to the hospital. She found Deeks sitting in one of the lightly cushioned chairs that he seemed too big for, his head tipped back, arms crossed over his chest. She frowned, he looked worse for wear. He jerked awake, did a quick look around and on his second scan of his surroundings he registered her. He raised a few fingers in a lazy wave.

She walked closer and set the two take-out boxes on the coffee table in front of him. "Figured you might be hungry."

He looked at the boxes and shrugged. "I'm alright, thanks." He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he rubbed his eyes.

"You need to eat," she said peering at him over her glasses. It wasn't just his status as one of her agents, or detective in this case, that had her playing mother hen to man. She could read the guilt in his eyes, the tension in his body and knew well the particular brand of agony he suffered through. Deeks grimaced, his hand rubbed over his heart, pain etched deeply in his features. It hurt her to see the incredible, charming man this way. He seemed so lost without Kensi and without the support of the team. She worried about him.

Deeks sighed and reached for a take-out box. He opened it and peered inside, his nose wrinkling up. "Steamed vegetables."

"You've been living off coffee for too long," she said sitting down on the couch to his right.

He stabbed at it with the chopsticks. "Broccoli." He said staring at a piece stuck to the end of the stick. "Kensi hates broccoli," his voice quiet, distant. He shoved the stick back in the take-out box and he leaned over to set it back on the table. "I don't have much of an appetite."

Hetty's lips pressed tightly together, her worry intensifying. "Have the doctors spoken of Kensi's condition?"

He sat a little straighter. "I got to see her."

Her heart twisted at the longing in his voice that mingled in with remorse.

He picked at a hole in the knee of his jeans. "She… the…" he fumbled for words and stayed silent for a long moment. He then shrugged, at a complete loss. "I just," he tossed his hands up for a brief moment before his thumb and forefinger pinched the bridge of his nose. "I should have done something." His voice brittle and on the edge of a break.

"Martin Deeks," she said her voice full of every fiber of conviction she held. His eyes slowly raised to meet hers, almost as if he feared the condemnation he might find. "You did everything you could," she said, her voice softening with compassion. "Everyone knows that. No one blames you."

He shook his head in disbelief. His eyes went to the ceiling as if he were offering silent prayer. "I'm her partner," his voice wobbled as it navigated the tightrope of his emotions. "I keep going over it in my head, I had to have missed something… I should have…"

"Marty," Hetty gripped him by the wrist and his eyes quickly returned to her. "Kensi would not blame you. This job has its risks. We all accept them. She wouldn't wish you to suffer under this guilt. What happened is not your fault. Stop beating yourself up."

He managed a half smile. "It's one of the things I'm good at."

::

Callen returned with a white paper bag full of food. His eyes found Vivian, the headphone cords disappeared under her long blonde hair. She covered her mouth as she yawned, she rubbed her eyes and focused them back on the screen.

"Hey," he said when he was close enough.

She jumped and looked up at him, her hand placed over her heart. She felt like an idiot for not paying enough attention to her surroundings. She should have known the second he walked in the door, and he certainly shouldn't have gotten that close to her without her noticing. "Hey," she responded now that her heart wasn't trying to escape her chest after that second of pure panic.

She caught a whiff of the scent drifting from the take-out bag. "Is that frigărui?" She asked sitting up straighter. "Please tell me that's frigărui!"

"What are you?" Callen asked with a playful smile on his face. "A bloodhound?"

Vivian's heart flip-flopped at the smile on his face. She wondered if he had any idea the effect he had on women. She covered it by narrowing her eyes dangerously. "Did you just call me a dog?"

For a second, he feared he had insulted her, then he took note of the slight upturn of her lips.

"No, I was simply noting your remarkable sense of smell." She reached out and he handed her the bag before taking a seat. "Top box is has lamb, second is beef, third is chicken."

"Do you have a preference?" Vivian asked with her hand stuck in the bag but her eyes on him.

"No."

"Good," Vivian responded setting the box she wanted aside. "I'm taking the beef."

Callen grabbed the bag and stuck his hand inside. "I'll take the lamb then."

"And the third box?"

"Sam."

Vivian nodded and opened the container taking a deep inhale. Her frigărui had bite sized chunks of beef that alternated with pieces of red pepper and tomatoes on a skewer, grilled to perfection. She ate the first piece of meat and moaned. "So good. Sam might not be getting any."

Callen laughed. "You have three skewers."

"I'm famished!" Vivian responded.

Callen shook his head. "Anything on the cameras?"

"Yeah," Vivian took out her right headphone and put it in Callen's ear. She then pointed to the view from camera two. "Pyotr and Marcel Comescu in the dining room. They've were talking about Logan and 'Ilena's' relationship. Pyotr doesn't approve. They then went into an argument over the best take-out joints in the city. Frankly, I can't wait until they go to bed. I don't think they'll be giving us anything good tonight. Our dynamic duo planted another mic/cam set," she pointed to the angle of camera three. "Good long straight shot of a family room, and into the hallway. They still have one last set, but it's been twenty minutes. I guess they're trying to choose the last location wisely."

Callen nodded. "Have you heard anything from the LA team?" He bit a piece of lamb off the skewer that made him feel even hungrier. He looked at the take-out bag. Maybe Vivian wasn't so off when she said that Sam might not be getting any.

"I received confirmation that they have the same audio and video I do," Vivian finished off the first skewer and immediately picked up the second. The two let conversation die as they ate ravenously but despite what both had thought, neither touched the chicken skewers. Vivian placed her hand over her stomach, leaned back in the soft bench and let out a satisfied sigh. "Thanks Blue Eyes."

He smiled at the affectionate nickname. "You're welcome, Venice."

She smiled before she covered her mouth as she yawned.

::

"Are you sure?" Logan asked as he leaned against the wall, his eyes scanning the hallway for anyone coming.

"Shut up," Hunter responded, her voice barely above a whisper. Her fingers moving dexterously with the lock-picks. The lock finally turned and she grinned triumphantly. "Yeah, I'm sure I can get it open."

He shook his head and watched her step inside. He listened for a moment but didn't hear anyone so he too slipped into the room and shut the door behind himself. "Whose office is this?" he asked looking around. A strong oak desk created a focal point in the room, book shelves lined the right wall, and the back wall was windows with translucent white curtains.

"Andrei's," Hunter responded as she considered the space and tried to figure out where it would be best place hide the camera and still get a good view of the room. "He stepped up to the head of the family when-" she trailed off and bit her bottom lip at the memory.

The warmth of Logan's hand on her neck became a grounding presence that kept her in the here and now. "How about we just plant these things and get the hell out of here. Okay?"

She nodded, grateful for the task at hand. She didn't regret shooting Alexia Comescu. She'd saved her brother with that shot but taking a life caused a horrific ripple effect into her own. Being an agent, she owned and trained with a gun. The job put her into situations where she had to use the weapon for her own safety and that of those around her. That didn't stop her from feeling the after effects, the brief moment of nausea that always followed, the 'could I have done something else' doubts that weighed like chains draped over her shoulders. A life snuffed at her hands became her burden to carry for the rest of her life. She regretted even thinking about taking out the Comescu family in its entirety, a personal low. In those moments she had been blinded by her rage, her grief, her desperation for it to be over. Now the thought alone made her ill. Her brother trusted in her abilities, trusted that together they could take these people down in a way that would set them free- not further burden their conscious. She drew strength from Logan, who could have left at any point but stuck by her side determined to see that the war would not take her life, nor her soul. She turned to look at Logan who walked around the room. She felt so grateful that he stayed with her.

Logan's long, strong frame move around the office before he planted the microphone under the desk. His eyes found hers and then moved and he pointed. "Top corner of that bookshelf, that vase would hide the camera and give a near full view of the room."

She looked up noting the spot he'd picked out. She then looked around. "There should be a step ladder," she said walking around the room trying to find it.

"Here give it," he said extending his hand.

"You can't reach it," she said but passed the camera over so he could try anyway.

He could only reach the shelf under it. He turned to her. "Don't say 'I told you so.'"

"I won't," she replied with a grin, "but know I'm thinking it." She gave up the idea of finding the step ladder. "Get on your hands and knees."

He raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"I'm going to stand on your back."

"You'll probably still come up short," he said with a hint of a grin on his face.

She let out an exasperated breath. "Then we need to find somewhere else to put this thing!"

"That's the best spot though," Logan argued as he pointed up to the spot. "There isn't a lot of clutter in this room. There isn't much to hide it with." He looked up at the spot and then dropped down to one knee. "Get on my shoulders."

She raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

He shot her a dirty look. "Just do it, and quick I'm kind of freaking out about getting caught in here."

She hadn't considered his nerves in this entire process. He'd been ready, willing and able to do everything to help. He didn't complain, didn't say anything about being nervous or frightened. At some point that she couldn't pin down he had become her rock, someone she depended on, someone who kept her grounded when the world around her seemed to spin wildly, madly out of control.

Hunter nodded. "Okay," she said ready to have this part of their mission out of the way. She got one leg over his shoulder and he offered his hands for balance. She looked at the little camera in her hand. It was too big to fit in her pocket. Deciding he'd never know, so he couldn't comment, she stuck it down her top between her breasts. Convinced it would stay put for a few seconds she took his hands.

With both legs over his shoulders, their hands clasped together he stood. The muscles in her arms and abdomen tightened keeping herself from falling back. She let go of one hand and placed it on the bookshelf to keep her balance as she let go of his other hand. She retrieved the camera and set it up, turning it on she smiled at the camera, offered a little wave knowing that Vivian had the monitoring duty. She angled its swiveling head down and toward the desk.

"All done," she said grabbing Logan's hands and he knelt down so she could get off him.

With both feet on the ground again she looked up at the camera, it had to be a little visible so it could get a view of the room but she didn't think anyone would notice it.

Logan stood back up and arched his back a little, she heard a vertebra pop. She looked over at him and raised a brow. He shrugged and then looked up to check on the camera himself. With a nod he looked back over at her and his eyes drifted down her frame.

"What?" She asked.

"You were holding my hands."

"Yeah," she replied. "So."

"So where did you put the camera?"

"My pocket," she responded immediately.

"Bullshit," he muttered as he followed her out of the room.

::

Callen watched his sister smile brightly as the camera activated the live feed. Being able to see her alive with her cover intact came as a great relief. He let out a heavy sigh. When Hannah Lawson had informed him of the death of his sister, he had grieved for the girl he could vaguely remember. Now that he had a second chance, he couldn't lose her again. He needed her to live so he that he could finally have the chance to reconnect with his sister. The dangers and high emotional impact of their current situation bound them together, their bond strengthening with every smile and shared memory. He wanted to be a brother, to have family, something so many others took for granted.

The scent of red currant and vanilla bombarded him as Vivian's head hit his shoulder. His entire body tightened defensively in surprise. He turned to notice her eyes shut and her mouth slightly parted. She let out a sigh in her sleep and seemed to completely relax against him. The tension ebbed from his body. He knew he needed to be returning to Sam but he couldn't deny Vivian the rest she so clearly needed. Her arm wrapped around his and she snuggled in, he found himself unable to keep the smile off of his face.

::

**Thanks for reading :)**

**Q: What are your favourite names? (first and or last)**

(I'm asking because when I write stories I use so many names and perhaps someone will suggest a few names I've never heard before, or really like.)


	38. Chapter Thirty Five

**A HUGE thanks to SilverSentenial21 for betaing the heck out of this :) You're awesome and I'm grateful!**

::

Hunter awoke in a peaceful state. The sun filtered through the white gauzy curtains. The room the exact colour of a fresh peach had a calming quality to it, the blankets were soft and warm making the experience homey. Logan's arm tightened around her as he shifted in his sleep. His other arm had gotten pinned under her neck at some point during the night. She welcomed his body heat, and the close physical proximity had helped her fall into a deep and blessedly dreamless sleep.

She longed for simple mornings; sleeping in, a decent breakfast, snuggling up with someone and snoozing the day away. Instead she spent her mornings getting up early, spending an hour at the gym and grabbing breakfast on the run. She felt a lack of determination to move from the warmth and happiness she found in Logan's arms. They weren't in a house in Los Angeles on some weekend, they were in a house full of Comescus. She gazed at Logan with the fear that they might not make it back to Los Angeles at all. _All is fair in love, war and gypsy blood feuds_, she thought feeling bitter. She poked her elbow gently back into his ribs and shook him a bit.

He groaned and his hand moved from around her waist to grab her elbow so she'd stop. "Do we have to get up?" he asked, a slight whining edge in his whispered voice.

"Yes," she told him shifting so she laid on her back. "Breakfast will be served soon." She smiled at the frown lines on his forehead. "I should get down there and help the other women."

He sighed, the breath warm against her neck. "Is breakfast mandatory?"

"Most important meal of the day," she replied hoping she sounded more optimistic than she felt. His hand skimmed across her abdomen leaving behind a trail of warmth and it tempted her to stay. "The sooner we get someone to talk, the better off we will be."

"Yeah," he agreed but still didn't make any effort to move. He took in a deep breath and when he finally opened his dark eyes, they met hers. A small, sleepy smile formed on his face. "As much as I would like to stay just like this, my arm is asleep." He wiggled his fingers and the tingling feeling shot right up the arm that had spent the night pinned under Hunter's neck.

She sat up and poked it, he quickly drew the arm into his chest and gave her a little push.

"Stop it," he grumbled.

She smiled and went to poke it again but he quickly rolled off the other side of the bed and out of her reach.

He shot her a dark glare but his lips hinted at a smile. "You're not very nice in the morning," he commented as he stalked off in his track pants toward the adjoining bathroom. She laughed and shook her head.

::

Callen's cellphone startled both Callen and Vivian awake. Vivian bolted completely upright and grimaced at the sharp pain in her shoulder, she rotated it trying to work out the kink. Her eyes scanned the area, the café now busy and manned by a pudgy middle aged man. Still tired, she ran her hands over her face and wished for a double shot of espresso.

Callen's heart leapt to his throat at the sound of the shrill ringtone. His eyes scanned the café, counting people, searching for threats and rechecking the exits. With no immediate danger present he turned to Vivian. A light pink flush stained her cheeks likely caused by a spike of adrenaline. Slowly, his heart rate returned to normal.

She caught him staring and smiled. "Are you going to answer that?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

He nodded and pulled the phone from the pocket of his jeans. "Yeah?"

_"It's Sam." _The voice of his partner sounded mildly annoyed._ "Do you have any intention of coming back?"_

"Yeah, of course," Callen replied with no good reason to explain why he'd been gone so long. "I just got tied up a bit."

_"With Vivian."_ Callen could hear the smirk in Sam's voice and he rolled his eyes. He glanced over at Vivian who put headphones on as she continuously flicked through camera angles and audio roll. _"Are you both okay?"_ Sam's voice held concern and Callen felt guilty for making his partner worry.

"We're good," Callen replied and Vivian's bright green eyes flicked over to him for a second, she offered a little grin before her eyes returned to the screen. "I'll grab breakfast on the way back."

_"That would be appreciated."_

They disconnected and Callen shoved his phone back into his pockets. He openly stared at Vivian for a moment, memorizing her soft profile. He didn't want to leave her on her own, but his sense of duty and his need to bring the Comescu family down won over. "I have to get back to Sam."

"There's _'Ilena,'_" Vivian whispered and she clicked on the kitchen/dining area camera. Hunter walked in, hugged one of the women, and conversation started going but Callen couldn't hear any of it.

"What are they saying?" he asked as he leaned in to get a better view of the screen.

"They're talking about the men. Mostly the women are teasing her about her very good looking companion," Vivian replied with a big smile.

Callen shook his head. He really didn't want to hear gossip about his sister, especially with a man involved. "So nothing useful."

"Guess not," Vivian replied but she seemed amused by the way Hunter responded to the conversation.

"Either Sam or I will be here later," Callen told her. His mind starting to function and focus once again on the task at hand. "We have to figure out a rotation. We can't keep up surveillance without sleep."

Vivian nodded and felt a sudden spike of immense worry. "Be careful," she stressed, her big green eyes capturing his.

"I will," he promised her. He grabbed the chicken_ frigărui_, paused, and on impulse he kissed her temple. "Take care of yourself."

Shock lingered in her big green eyes when she looked up at him, but her lips turned up happily. "I will," she promised him.

::

Near midnight in Los Angeles, Nell walked through the well-lit hospital corridors. She brought coffee from Deeks's favorite little 'mom and pop' shop. She stepped out of the way of a couple of chatty nurses and inhaled the clean, sterile scent of the hospital. Her stomach tightened with nervous energy when she thought about the reason behind her visit. She didn't know if she would get to see Kensi or if the bouquet she carried would be allowed in the ICU. She took another look at the flowers and frowned. Due to the late hour, the only flowers available were a sad, generic bunch of carnations.

Nell paused at the double doors that lead into the ICU waiting room. She shut her eyes and took a deep breath mentally preparing herself for whatever laid on the other side. Despite it being Eric's turn to check up on Deeks, Nell persuaded him to let her go instead. For the first time ever she found it difficult to concentrate on case work. Her mind kept slipping from her tasks, worrying incessantly over Kensi's condition and Deeks' mental health. She needed to go and see with her own eyes so she could come to terms with what happened. She found Deeks sitting on a couch while he read an issue of "_Readers Digest.__" _She walked over timidly and sat down beside him. He didn't look at her or make any indication that he noticed her presence. She leaned forward, set down the coffee and flowers before she sat back.

A nervous hush filled the room. A woman appeared to be praying over in the corner, the man sitting beside her held his head in his hands. Nell's heart squeezed tightly in empathy. Desperation hung heavy in the air.

"Marty?" she whispered afraid to break the hush with her voice.

He flipped the page of the _"__Reader's Digest"_ but his eyes didn't shift. He didn't read a single word on the page, only using the book to give the illusion of normalcy. She stared at the dark circles under his eyes. She'd seen him work three days straight, tirelessly, vigilantly and still want to go out for celebratory drinks afterwards. He looked absolutely exhausted it startled her to see his energy depleted.

"Marty," she grabbed him by the wrist, his skin felt cool to the touch. It took a moment but his eyes shifted from the pages to her hand, then his eyes continued to follow down her wrist, her arm, and then to her face. "I brought you coffee," she said softly, keeping her voice gentle and soothing.

His dull eyes reminded her of a zombie movie she had once watched with Eric. She shivered. He looked over to the table, where the flowers and the coffee sat. "Can't have flowers in this ICU," he replied with a voice as lifeless as his eyes.

"Well," she paused the cogs of her mind turning. "Maybe they can sit at the nurse's station."

"Yeah, maybe," he replied before reaching for the coffee. He took a sip and sighed, his entire body sagging into the couch. "Hetty was here. She tried to make me eat vegetables," Deeks shook his head and took another sip of the familiar warm drink. "Thanks for the coffee," he murmured, his voice sounded rough as if he hadn't used it in hours.

Nell nodded, she felt strange around this new Deeks. No wise-cracking, no one-liners or ill-timed jokes, no teasing or ribbing, none of the spark that he always carried. She took his hand in hers and gave it a gentle squeeze to comfort him. "Have the doctors said anything?"

"No," Deeks replied before taking another sip of coffee. He set it down on the table and then looked over at Nell. His face lost its dazed expression and his eyes focussed on to hers. "Doctors are waiting it out, they can't tell me much," he told her gently and she felt as if the old Deeks peeked out from beyond the veil of despair just to try and comfort her. "She needs time, the longer she hangs on better the odds of survival but the longer she stays unconscious the less chance she has of waking up."

The facts laid out before her and she struggled with the weight of them. Her job as an Intelligence Analyst gave her plenty of hard truths, but for the most part they were huge, impersonal truths. The frightening personal truth that Kensi might not make it tore her asunder.

Her eyes went to the flowers, and then to the praying woman who emitted painful keening cries. "Their son was hit by a drunk driver," Deeks whispered, answering an unasked question. She could hear the heartbreak in his voice. "Heard the doctors tell them it isn't looking good."

The despair in the room felt tangible.

She turned to Deeks who had the coffee once again clasped between his hands. "I'm going to go to the chapel," she whispered feeling the overwhelming urge to pray for Kensi, and for the little boy who fought for his life. "Would you like to join me?"

Deeks' dull blue eyes turned to her. "The night I shot my father I gave up on prayers," he answered in the same dazed, lifeless tone he'd used when she first arrived. "Do whatever it is you need to Nell, but God has no place in this Hell."

His words chilled her to her core. She decided to pray for him too.

::

Callen returned to Sam a little after ten. He had with him the cold _frigărui_, four bottles of water, a couple candy bars, two muffins from a bakery and a small bag of _Tootsie Pops_. He opened the car door, and threw the shopping bags on the floor before getting in.

"Good, you're here," Sam said sounding a bit impatient. "I'm going for a walk."

Callen raised an eyebrow in silent questioning.

"Unlike you," Sam continued with his hand on the door handle. "I've been stuck in this car all night. Your turn to watch the place, I won't be long. Call me if you need me." Sam left his partner in the car and stretched out. His right leg tingled and his back ached. He fought of a wave of sleepiness and started walking down the sidewalk away from the Comescu family home. Little shops popped up the farther he walked. He went into a little café, ordered a couple coffees and made a pit stop in the men's room.

He returned to the car with the two coffees and passed one to his partner. "Anything happen while I was gone?" Sam asked.

"Someone came out with the trash," Callen replied unwrapping a _Tootsie Pop_. "That was it."

"Fascinating," Sam replied dryly. Surveillance landed in the _'necessary but boring' _category of police work.

The two partners sat in silence as they enjoyed their coffees and the caffeine boost it brought with it. Sam felt a little more alert, but he knew the caffeine crash would be on its way. Sam watched his partner take a sip of coffee before popping the lollypop back into his mouth. He didn't imagine the cherry flavour went well with coffee, but his partner didn't seem bothered in the least. Callen kept folding the little paper. He did okay with the paper cranes since Sam had taught him a while back, but pretty much all other origami creatures eluded him. Sam just watched trying to figure out what the hell his partner kept trying to make.

Leaning forward, Callen placed the paper on the dashboard.

"G?" Sam questioned grabbing his partner's attention. "What is that?"

"It's a cow," Callen replied as though it should be completely obvious.

"A cow?" Sam looked at it skeptically.

"Yes."

Sam stared at the red _Tootsie Pop_ wrapper and tried to figure out where his partner saw the outline of a cow. "Are you sure?" Sam asked.

"Of course," Callen replied. "I saw the video on _Youtube_."

Sam pressed his lips together tightly in effort not to laugh. "Okay then."

::

Sitting in the quiet Chapel Nell felt the weight of the despair from the ICU wrapping around her like a ball and chain, dragging her down. She could still hear the unnerving crying of the mother who prayed for her son. When she shut her eyes she could see Deeks' dull eyes staring at her.

Her thumb brushed over the small gold cross she wore around her neck. In the past, prayer had always helped her find a sense of peace, balance, and at times, understanding. Now, she felt overwhelmed as the enormity of the situation her team found itself in hit her full force. She breathed out and clasped her hands before her, as her lips moved in silent prayer.

::

Logan's heart seized with dread, and his stomach gave an uneasy roll. Having Hunter out of his sight caused him to panic. The entire situation left him on uneven ground. He paused in the empty hallway and leaned his back against the wall. He took deep breaths as he tried to calm himself, his hands threading through his already dishevelled hair. The bullet wound flared up with pain, but the burn stayed secondary to the worry. His entire body vibrated with nervous energy that he needed to hide. No one could see his nerves, because then there would be questions, and questions lead to truths.

Hearing footsteps, he pushed away from the wall and forced himself to pull it together. Sooner they got the information, sooner this would all be over. He ran his hand back over his hair to make it halfway presentable.

Ptoyr turned the corner and smiled at Logan. "Just the man I wanted to see," Ptoyr said his accent slowing the English words.

The feeling of dread increased and Logan forced a smile. "Ptoyr, good to see you, shall we go down for breakfast. A-_Ilena_ will be angry with me for being late." He shoved his hands in his pockets to hide his trembling hands, nearly biting his tongue when _'Amy'_ almost slipped out.

"You say that you work odd jobs, yes?" Ptoyr asked as he came to walk beside Logan.

"Yeah," Logan kept his answers brief, fearing that he would mess up or forget details. He considered himself to be a highly intelligent individual, but lives hung in the balance and his nerves threatened to get the better of him.

"Excellent. We need some help with something."

Logan's heart skipped a beat and then started racing. "Anything to help," he replied in a friendly fashion but his throat went dry and he felt his palms begin to sweat.

"Good to hear," Ptoyr replied clasping a big hand over the tall man's shoulder.

::

Hetty returned to the Oceanside house. Despite being personally involved in the 'off-the-books' case she did have an entire office of agents to run. As fatigue threatened to get the best of her, she began to feel her age. She shut the door behind herself and walked into the front room which served as their technical office for the case. The blond technician sat on a couch, hunched over the laptop resting on the coffee table. Expecting him to be the one gone to check in at the hospital, Hetty raised an eyebrow. "Eric?"

Hetty's voice startled the Technical Operator. "Hey Hetty," he greeted, his heart trying to return to a regular rhythm. "I didn't see you there. I'm getting the feed from the Comescu compound," he informed her. "Ptoyr was just speaking with Logan." The meeting in the hallway gave Eric some faith that the plan might actually work.

She looked around the living room, noting Nell's absence. "Has Miss Jones gone to see Mr. Deeks?"

"Yeah," Eric replied. He stood and tried to work the kinks out of his back. He wanted to see Deeks and check on Kensi but at the same time, hospitals freaked him out. The thought of seeing the beautiful young agent hooked up to machines scared him. He felt much more comfortable working with the memory of Kensi happy and healthy in his mind. When Nell asked if she could take his turn, he'd been grateful. As much as he feared going, he could tell Nell needed to go, to see for herself. "I can handle the feeds," Eric insisted thinking perhaps Hetty worried about the distribution of work. "Nell said she wouldn't be gone too long and that she would call if, you know, Deeks needed the company."

Hetty nodded once. "And Nicoleta?"

Eric looked around the room for the first time in a few hours, his neck scolding him for staying in one position for so long. "I don't know," he admitted fidgeting with his glasses. "I haven't seen her."

Hetty had an inkling about Nicoleta's whereabouts, but hoped that she was wrong.

::

"Hey," Logan grabbed Hunter around the waist and brought her into a tight alcove.

Her body went rigid in his arms. The strong lean muscles in her arms and legs ready to strike out against a threat. She turned and when their eyes met the tension drained and she relaxed against him. "You startled me."

"Sorry," he responded. He poked his head out and looked for anyone around.

She watched him as his wild eyes darted in every direction to make sure they wouldn't be discovered. Pressed so close to him, she could feel the tension in his body. Her body reacted in response, adrenaline surging through her system. Her nerves felt like livewires and her hand clenched in his shirt drawing his attention back to her. She stared up at him, feeling her face wrinkle with worry, but didn't have to ask, the question plain as day on her face.

"Ptoyr is taking me out somewhere with a few of the guys," Logan said, his voice low. "Said I need to prove myself."

"The family is close," her words coming out in a rush, her eyes flicking around the room then back up to meet his dark eyes. "They are suspicious of outsiders."

"Any idea what it is that they want me to do?" Logan asked in the same rushed fashion, his dark eyes scanning the room, his paranoia mounting.

She shook her head. "They may want to pull you into the family business."

"Loansharking?"

"Some members of the family work for the criminal organizations that the family funds," Hunter said.

"I think they're worried about you, _Ilena,_" she enjoyed the way the name rolled off his tongue, but she longed to hear her real name. "They think I do odd jobs," he continued, his eyes once again flicking over the room. "They're worried about your financial security, and if you're with a man who can provide for you."

"This is what we wanted," Hunter said. This could be the opening they had been waiting for and yet her heart raced and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up as a surge of undiluted panic swept through her. "The organizations are what we are looking for."

He nodded resolutely. "I know." He shifted from one foot to the other. "Do you really think they're just going to take me in after knowing me for a day? It doesn't seem smart."

"You're with me," Hunter argued. "It gives you credibility."

Logan didn't hold the same faith in that statement as Hunter did. They both jumped slightly upon hearing his name being called out. "Guess I'll find out," he muttered turning away only to have Hunter grab his arm and pull him back in. He hissed out a breath from the sudden pain of the healing wound but the pain ended up quickly forgotten as Hunter's lips met his. For a moment they both forgot where they were, caught up in the moment he pressed against her. Her hands tangled in his dishevelled dark brown hair. Lips collided frantic and needy. He held her close and she wished him even closer.

The sound of approaching footsteps had them returning to good sense and he soothed his hands over her hair.

"I'll see you later," Logan murmured and she took comfort in the simple phrase.

She nodded and watched as he walked away. Moments later she heard Logan and Ptoyr talking in the hallway and not for the first time, she worried over what she had gotten Logan involved in.

::

Thanks for reading :)


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